Margins of Error, Part 4 of the 'Deliverance' arc
by shepsgirl72
Summary: What do you get if you cross an experimental Stargate with a mad Medulsan? Big trouble for Major John Sheppard, that's what.Shep whump a-plenty, plus some action and adventure thrown in for good measure.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc, no infringement of any rights is intended.

**Spoilers: **Spoilers for the previous three Deliverance stories and various SGA episodes

**Warnings: **Violence and adult themes, though nothing graphic. Heck, it's a 'Deliverance' story. You know the score by now!

**Summary: **What do you get if you cross an experimental Stargate with a mad Medulsan? Big trouble for Major John Sheppard, that's what. Shep whump a-plenty, plus some action and adventure thrown in for good measure.

This story is mostly set on Earth, prior to the Atlantis mission, and you really need to read the Deliverance trilogy first or it will make no sense at all! Appearances from SG-1 and some other folks from the SGC, plus a few of our SGA favourites.

Special thanks go to both **Sterenyk Strey** and **lizlou57** for their help with betaing this story. They have worked their socks off for me, so all mistakes that remain are mine. The story is almost complete, I'm just working through Chapter 28 out of 30, and will be posted every other day until complete, then a little quicker once it's all down and edited. And don't worry, I've never let a story beat me yet, so it will get finished!

All that said, here's Chapter 1. Read, hopefully enjoy, and please let me know what you think. :)

**Chapter 1**

He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this angry. No, strike that, he could remember, but this was very, very different. The last time, McKay had switched on Elizabeth's nanites to save her life without being certain he could keep control of them. Sure, McKay had bluffed and told him he could, but the scientist's body language and erratic eye movements had told Sheppard he was lying about his supposed level of confidence. This time...this time he was messing with something that was so far beyond any of them, McKay couldn't possibly give him the reassurances he needed to convince him it was worthwhile.

'It's 100 percent safe, Sheppard,' Rodney squawked, his eyes brilliant blue against his ruddy complexion. 'How many times do I have to tell you that?'

'Funny, I seem to remember you once saying you couldn't give me a one hundred percent guarantee on anything,' Sheppard drawled, his relaxed slouch and calm demeanour belying the turmoil currently broiling in his stomach.

Rodney glared as he tried to recall that, his face slackening as he did. 'Yes...well...that's true. So, I'm 99.99 percent recurring certain I'm right. Just like I was then.'

'But you don't know for sure?' Sheppard clarified, slumping further down in the seat, trying to give their banter its usual humour. 'You could be wrong.'

Rodney rolled his eyes, gripping the arms of his seat so hard his knuckles blanched. 'I've run the simulations hundreds of times now. Four hundred to be precise. Sam Carter and I have been working on this separately and exchanging theories for two whole years. The margin for error is minute.'

'But you don't_ know_,' Sheppard emphasised, staring the man into submission.

A kind of strangulated scream issued from the scientist, and he slapped a hand to his forehead. 'Yes...all right. If it makes you feel better to hear it, I can't be one hundred percent certain it's entirely safe to operate, no. But, as I said, in my opinion the margin of error is infinitesimally small.'

'Thank you,' Sheppard smirked, having finally dragged the truth from him.

Richard Woolsey sat impassively behind his desk, elbows resting on its surface, fingers knitted together, listening to their argument without comment. Sheppard cast him a victorious smile, but Woolsey looked unconcerned by the news. That wasn't the reaction Sheppard had been hoping for. He'd expected to see some support there in the man's rigid features, some flicker of doubt in his eyes , but no. He still wore the same expression he almost always wore. Stony...maybe with a hint of constipation.

'You say you've run the simulations four hundred times?' Woolsey repeated, fixing his gaze on McKay.

'Well, between us we have, yes,' McKay nodded.

'That's yourself and Colonel Carter?'

'Yes,' Rodney hissed with another eye-roll. 'Who else? I'm hardly gonna ask Ronon to run them. And can I just say that I find having to justify testing what is so obviously an incredible breakthrough in Stargate technology this way totally and astonishingly ridiculous.'

'It's potentially dangerous, Rodney. That's why you need to justify it,' Sheppard growled, his hackles rising at the scientist's casual disregard for his concerns.

'Yes, yes, we've all heard your worries, Colonel Cautious,' Rodney sniped, giving a dismissive flap of his hand. 'Now let's deal with the reality. This is me we're talking about, not some fly by night Ancient scientist throwing together crazy half-notions, and untested theories. Here, on Atlantis, we have the power levels critical to maintain a stable wormhole. We just have to wire the technology into our power supply to test it.'

'And what if we can't shut it off again?' Sheppard asked. 'That thing created chaos on Guedeseo for centuries. We might not be able to use our Stargate for days or weeks until you figure something out. We could end up with teams stranded off-world and in danger.'

'Hello,' McKay sneered. 'Like I said, I'm in charge of the project, now. Janus may not have known what he was messing with, but with the modifications I've made, I'm absolutely certain I can shut it down.'

'One hundred percent certain, or just ninety-nine point nine recurring?' Sheppard asked, setting Rodney off again.

'What is it with you and superfluous numbers?' he demanded. 'It's always, 'How long?' and 'How many?' or 'How much?'. Can we get past this bit already?'

'I like to know what I'm up against, that's all.'

'We all know what you're thinking, but she's not gonna come spitting back out of the 'gate if we switch it on!' Rodney ranted.

The room fell completely silent.

Sheppard glowered at the scientist, hardly able to believe he'd said that. Rodney sank lower into his own chair now, his red cheeks turning pale. 'Well, someone had to say it,' he squeaked, eyes darting between Sheppard and Woolsey.

Woolsey leaned back in his seat and regarded them both for a moment before speaking. 'Dr McKay, would you give Colonel Sheppard and myself a few minutes alone to discuss your proposal, please?'

'Uh...sure,' Rodney replied, hesitating a little before pushing up out of his seat and shuffling from the office.

'That's not the only reason I'm against this project,' Sheppard said ruefully, straightening up a little now he was alone in the boss's company. Woolsey had a manner about him that made Sheppard feel like he should make more of an effort. He sometimes thought if he ever looked up the definition of 'stuffed-shirt' it would simply show a picture of Woolsey. Despite that fact, he'd learned to respect the man, a feeling he hoped was mutual. Richard had, after all, managed to negotiate the return of Atlantis to the Pegasus Galaxy when so many other people, namely members of the IOA, had wanted it to remain on Earth in case more Wraith attacked. And there were times when even he would bend the rules to gain a win, something every commander of Atlantis had quickly learned was an essential skill, no matter what their previous ideas had been.

'You have to admit that if we could get this experimental Stargate working, it could provide untold benefits to the Stargate programme, opening up previous unexplored worlds to us...and who knows what technologies.'

'And enemies,' Sheppard pointed out. 'At least with most of the planets we currently visit, we know they were safe enough for the Ancients to want to put a 'gate there.'

'Or rather they were over 10,000 years ago,' Woolsey corrected. 'A lot can and most likely has changed in that time, Colonel. Every trip through the 'gate is laden with risk. That doesn't stop you going through it.'

'That's generally because I know the Stargate works. That experimental 'gate Janus created is so far beyond us I'm not sure we should really be thinking of opening it up here in the city.'

Woolsey tapped the screen of his data pad, scrolling through the information on the proposal McKay had submitted to him. 'Dr McKay assures me he will be adhering to the strictest safety protocols and there is no apparent risk to the city itself from operating the experimental 'gate. And according to the simulations both he and Colonel Carter have run –'

'With all due respect, I don't care what those simulations say, Mr Woolsey,' Sheppard growled, interrupting him mid-sentence. 'I've seen Rodney's calculations go wrong before, and even though he and Colonel Carter have the combined IQ of the rest of the population of this city, I happen to know they've had to use a lot of speculation in getting this 'gate to a point where it can work again. They only saved part of Janus' database, and although they're smart enough to figure some of this stuff out with the information they possess, they can't know for sure they have things exactly right. Only a live test will prove that.'

Woolsey nodded, leaning back in his seat again. 'So this really isn't about this Medulsan woman Dr McKay mentioned, Colonel?'

Sheppard chewed his lip and considered lying, but it was pointless. His hatred of Sarayah was now legendary, as was the way he'd taken her out. Denying it would be more obvious than not. 'Well, I'll admit the thought of having her loose in the Pegasus Galaxy again doesn't exactly give me the warm and fuzzies, but no, that's not my main concern.'

Woolsey watched him silently, and Sheppard confidently held his gaze in the hope he wouldn't see through his bluff. Right here, right now, setting her free _was_ his main concern, but the thought of the havoc a rampant Stargate could wreak in their city was undoubtedly right up there with it on the 'things you really don't want to happen' scale.

Slowly, Woolsey nodded. 'Okay. I take your concerns on board. Even though Dr McKay assures me he can create a safe and controlled environment here in Atlantis, I'm going to ask him to select another world, an uninhabited one, and I'm also going to ask him to delay the experiment for a week until we can have the Daedalus on standby to beam he and whoever goes with him from that planet should the experimental 'gate take precedence again.'

Sheppard lifted his chin and gave him a tight smile. 'Sounds like a plan.'

'As for anyone spilling out of the 'gate. My understanding is that only whole components can pass through a wormhole, and the longest time anything can be stored in a 'gate's memory buffers is forty-eight hours, so that really doesn't seem likely, does it?'

Sheppard resisted the urge to repeat the mantra "experimental Stargate" and just shrugged his shoulders. 'No...but I find it pays to never say never.'

Woolsey was obviously taking this all very seriously, but in his heart, Sheppard knew he would give McKay the go-ahead to bring the experimental gate back on-line. How could he not? All the scientists were raving about what a fantastic break-through in Stargate physics it was, which he knew was true, and there were numerous possible applications Rodney had been gibbering about over breakfast for the past few months that he'd only half-listened to because he'd been trying to convince himself that they just weren't clever enough to figure out how to get it up and running. But now they could because Sam Carter had devised a portable naquadriah generator powerful enough to generate and maintain a wormhole for approximately one minute, taking the regular use of the experimental 'gate one step closer to reality, though not in the fully mobile way Janus had intended just yet.

Sheppard thought it sounded more like a nightmare than a breakthrough, but had kept that particular view to himself, calmly pointing out the potential dangers to the city rather than the other risks that were actually screaming at him to be recognised. What if she was still in that 'gate? What if she got through and hunted him down again? What if she was even more 'in your face' crazy than she ever had been? He'd taken her hand, after all. Not for the first time, in fact, more than likely for the thousandth time, he wished he'd shot her when he'd first had the opportunity out in the deserts when they'd run from the Atrascan troops she was leading, but no...he'd come over all chivalrous and left her a fighting chance of survival because he didn't like killing people who he thought posed a threat to him alone. Well, that hadn't been the case, and his compassion had almost cost his team their lives, not to mention all the people – Atrascans, Medulsans and the inhabitants of Guedeseo alike – who had fallen during her desperate attempts to bend him to her will.

'Colonel?'

Woolsey had been talking to him and he'd been so lost in thought he hadn't heard a word of it. That woman, even while supposedly dead, remained the only person who could distract him to that degree.

'I'm sorry...what?' he asked.

Woolsey sighed, rising from his seat to approach Sheppard and sit down beside him. 'John,' he said, immediately alarming Sheppard because the man rarely used his first name. 'I've read the mission reports regarding Sarayah. I understand how...unnerving that woman is, and –'

'No...no you don't,' Sheppard snapped. Then he stopped himself. He was allowing his emotions to rule his head, another thing only she could make him do. This wasn't like him...this was the John Sheppard he was reduced to whenever she entered his life.

Richard held him pinned with that same emotionless stare, reading him, leaving him squirming in his seat. 'All right, I accept that wasn't the best choice of words. Perhaps empathise would have been better,' he conceded. 'But my understanding is that by any known physics, this woman has zero chance of rematerialising if the 'gate is operated. And even if somehow she did, she was badly injured when she fell into the event horizon...possibly dying I believe your report stated. The chances are she would die before she could do anyone any harm.'

That was true, but since her propensity for survival rivalled the Terminator bots, Sheppard didn't feel particularly comforted. No, it was easier to focus on the science. If this was going to happen, then he would cling to the fact that the laws of Stargate physics said she was a lost cause. Her atoms had now been lost in some subspace channel that had disappeared scattering her atoms far and wide throughout the Pegasus Galaxy. So everywhere he went a part of her could be near him...he shuddered and shook that thought away. It really wasn't helping.

'I'm going to recommend that your team scouts out an appropriate planet for the test to take place, but I think it is important to try this, John. I hope you understand.'

'I do...Richard,' he replied, almost tripping over the name he found so unfamiliar to say. 'And I guess if we're going to move this off-world, I really don't have a problem with it.'

'Good, then it's settled.'

Sheppard watched him push up from his seat with a satisfied smile, the most his expression had changed for the entire meeting. Feeling like he'd just signed his soul away, his own rise and departure was rather more laboured, his heart heavy and dragging him down to levels of misery he thought he'd left behind long ago.

oooOOOooo

Two weeks later, Sheppard, Rodney, Ronon and Teyla were beamed down amidst the craggy landscape of PG4 982 along with a naquadria generator and the equipment salvaged from Janus' lab on Guedeseo. McKay immediately got to work calibrating the equipment, while Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon set up a perimeter. The planet was uninhabited by humans, though it did have some indigenous life forms that had shown up on the MALP scans, but nothing that looked either large or obviously dangerous. Still, it paid to be cautious. The Pegasus Galaxy was nothing if not full of surprises.

It was raining, and in only a few minutes Sheppard's uniform was saturated and clung to his form like a second skin, Teyla's hair lay plastered against her forehead, and huge drops of rain fell from Ronon's dreadlocks reminding Sheppard of a mop a janitor had forgotten to wring out. McKay sat hunched over various pieces of Ancient equipment, collar up as he beavered away, rain dripping from his nose and chin as he blinked furiously to focus on the job. Sheppard was just thinking how excited about the project Rodney must be to not be complaining about the weather when McKay reverted to form.

'Why the hell you had to insist on us coming all the way out here when I could set up a perfectly controlled environment in one of the disused wings of the city, I'll never understand,' the scientist muttered as he started connecting the generator to Janus' machine. 'We could have been warm and dry instead of sinking in mud and freezing our ears off.'

'Our ears?' Sheppard peered back over his shoulder at him.

'Lady present,' McKay replied, dipping his head in Teyla's direction.

'Right.'

Sheppard scoured the tree-line surrounding their position, scanning around with his LSD. For the moment, they hadn't attracted any unwanted attention. That was a promising start, but he knew it could take McKay a full half hour to get the equipment to generate the experimental 'gate up and running, so they couldn't relax just yet.

The rain felt like it was actually sinking through to his bones now, which made the experience all the more uncomfortable, that and McKay's perpetual whining about how he would probably come down with pneumonia all because of Sheppard's paranoia. Sheppard did his utmost to ignore him, rolling his eyes and checking for life signs again rather than rising to the bait.

'It is my understanding that this Stargate project is very advanced,' Teyla piped up, wandering over McKay's way, P-90 clutched firmly in her right hand.

'Well, yes, of course it is. Sam and I were the only ones smart enough to even come close to getting our heads around the physics involved –'

'And did you not have to fill in many gaps in the information you salvaged from Janus' records yourselves?'

'Well, yes,' he huffed, 'but it wasn't as much a game of chance as you make it sound. It's not as if we sat around sticking pins into pages of quantum physics to see what theory we hit!'

'But since so much of what you and Colonel Carter have calculated is so far untried, would you not admit it is wise to test it away from the city in an environment where we will not endanger human life?'

'Except our own,' Ronon muttered, throwing McKay a death glare. Ronon was almost as mad about this project as Sheppard himself, and had told McKay that a number of times in the past two weeks. Not that McKay had paid him any heed.

'For the thousandth time, we are not in any danger! All the simulations have shown the test will be a complete success. We should be able to keep a 'gate open for a minute at least. Plenty enough time for something to pass through it. And by something, I don't mean any hissing, spitting, psychotic Medulsans.'

Sheppard hunched against the cold and took a few steps further away from McKay before he said something he might regret, a dot suddenly showing up on his LSD.

'Look sharp. Something's heading our way.' He signalled the direction, and Ronon prepped his weapon, as did Teyla as she edged back over to them.

They watched the ground, waiting for something to break out of the underbrush, but in the end it took them by surprise, swooping down from the trees and landing on the ground in front of them. It looked like a freakish cross between a bat and a cat, the dimensions of a fair-sized domestic feline, but with leathery wings spanning between its body and its clawed forelimbs. It stood on all fours, staring at them with intelligent orange eyes, tilting its head as if trying to fathom out what they were.

The trio froze, watching it, gauging it.

'Huh, it reminds me of my cat,' Rodney chirped from behind them. 'It used to tilt its head in exactly the same way.'

'What's it doing?' Sheppard hissed to him. 'You being our resident feline expert.'

'Er...not sure. It could mean one of several things. It could be curious, or uncertain –'

The bat cat suddenly leapt forward at ferocious speed, flooring Sheppard and hissing in his face before he could get off a shot. Ronon blasted it off him, but not before it had taken a good swipe at his neck.

'Or it could mean it's pissed. My cat used to do that, too.'

'Thanks for the insight!' Sheppard croaked, getting up and dabbing at his bleeding neck. 'A little more of a heads up would've been good.'

'What am I...the Cat Whisperer?' Rodney shrugged, getting on with the connections.

Sheppard cast him a shrivelling look that was completely wasted on him because he already had his head buried in Janus' machine.

'How long's that gonna take?' he shouted, just to annoy him.

'Again with the meaningless numbers!' Rodney yelled back. 'I dunno...how about eight weeks?'

'We're gonna need more food,' Sheppard called back, making Teyla smile.

'Wonder what this thing tastes like, Ronon rumbled, nudging the bat cat with the toe of his muddy boot.

'Chicken, I guess. Most things do,' Sheppard mused, leaning over it and curling his lip at the smouldering corpse. 'And it's already cooked...nice, but it won't keep us going for eight weeks.'

'Yes, ha-ha, I get it, you'd like me to hurry up,' Rodney grumbled from the depths of an echoey chamber inside the device.

'Well, considering you're the one moaning about catching pneumonia, that would be good,' Sheppard pointed out, scanning around them again. This time, the LSD showed no sign of anything alive in their vicinity. Hopefully it would stay that way until they could complete the experiment and move on.

Some twenty minutes later, McKay finally got back to his feet. 'So, Sheppard, I figure you owe me an apology when this thing works with no problems, don't you?' the scientist quipped, firing up the machine. It glowed into life, and Sheppard felt a tingle as it connected with him at some level.

'Let's not count those chickens just yet, huh?' he replied, wandering over toward the control panels. Data scrolled down some of the screens, all in Ancient, a language Sheppard simply hadn't had the time to learn in any great detail. 'So what's all this stuff say?'

'It's a diagnostic...you know, like when you cut power to a computer before shutting it down and it suggests you scan disks for a fault.'

'Cool...so what does it actually say?'

McKay rolled his eyes. 'Well, funnily enough, I don't have time to translate it verbatim, but it's basically repairing any faulty files after the explosion cut them off.'

Sheppard found himself hoping it couldn't fix all the files, then mentally reprimanded himself for being so negative. This project meant a lot to McKay...to a lot of people, in fact. He really had to try to be more supportive.

'Well, let's get this thing running and see what it can do,' he replied. It was the most enthusiastic response he could muster.

Rodney continued to speed read data while Sheppard strolled away to where Teyla and Ronon stood. The look the Athosian gave him as he approached could only be described as sympathetic. Was his anxiety really that obvious?

'I am certain everything will be fine,' she told him. 'And the experimental Stargate, if it can be stabilised, would prove most useful in expanding our exploration of the galaxy.'

'So we can get out there and piss off entirely new enemies,' Ronon smirked, twirling his gun as he scoped the tree line again.

Sheppard checked the LSD. They were still alone, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Haunted...that was how that damned woman had left him. There was no other word for it. And the thought of someday meeting someone else just as crazy out there made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach. He'd deal with them, just as he'd dealt with her, but the experience had scarred deep into his psyche, leaving him checking over his shoulder more than he would ever dare admit.

'Ain't that the truth?' he breathed, managing a flicker of a smile before the effort became too much.

'Okay. The diagnostic's finished. We're good to go!' Rodney announced cheerfully, his face split by the biggest smile Sheppard had seen him wear for a long time, especially considering his sodden state.

This was the kind of thing Rodney lived for, and Sheppard felt guilty for not sharing his joy. But the stuff Rodney dealt with, whether it was the experimental 'gate or not, generally went way beyond his level of understanding, and he found that scary as all hell. He liked to be in possession of all the information when facing any given situation; the Pegasus Galaxy rarely furnished him with anything near that.

'Okay, where's the package?' the scientist demanded, repeatedly clicking his fingers and jabbing his finger in the direction of a parcel sitting behind the rest of the team.

Before leaving Atlantis, Rodney had parcelled up some MREs and popped a transmitter in with them as something to send through the 'gate if or when he managed to fire it up. Then, they planned to gate to their destination the conventional way to check it had arrived in one piece, where they could track it down and have their lunch before heading home. The food parcel had, of course, been McKay's idea. Exciting as all this theoretical 'gate physics was, he still found time to think of his stomach.

Ronon picked it up and carried it over to him. 'Here. Catch.'

He tossed it to McKay, taking him by surprise so he barely had time to catch it. 'Thank you, Conan. Thankfully it's not full of volatile explosives!'

'Yes, because that would be so much more dangerous than toying around with theoretical 'gate physics,' Sheppard snorted, giving him a wry smile.

'Honestly, you are so paranoid, Sheppard. I know exactly what I'm doing and when I prove that, you're gonna be grovelling around me begging me to let you have a go.'

Sheppard just shook his head and bit his tongue, Rodney's arrogance grating on his already frayed nerves. McKay was a good friend, and a damned good scientist, but there were times Sheppard could happily hand him his head.

The machine flashed into life without Rodney's input, and he instantly dropped the package, frantically scouring the data stream and trying to figure out what was going on. 'Nonononono. That's not supposed to be happening yet!'

Sheppard got a sinking feeling and jogged over to join him. 'So turn it off.'

'I can't. It thinks it's following a command. Must be something residual.'

Just then, to add to the fun, Colonel Caldwell's voice broke through on their communicators. _'Dr McKay, we're picking up unusual solar activity readings. Is this anything to do with your experiment?'_

'No! Of course it isn't! No 'gate can affect the su –'

His face dropped.

Sheppard saw his brain begin kicking into overdrive, no doubt figuring out some kind of mathematical equations he could only dream of understanding. This was one of the few things that scared the crap out of him...when McKay knew something he didn't and looked that scared.

'McKay?'

'I suppose this part may have been in the data we lost,' he whimpered. 'Janus was keen on time travel, after all, and the original 'gate was designed to draw power from the environment. Perhaps he designed some kind of solar interface.'

'_I recommend you shut down the experiment until you can be certain of what's happening, Doctor,'_ they heard Caldwell say, more of a command than a suggestion.

'Yeah...I would if I could figure out...'McKay looked at Sheppard, realisation dawning on him. 'It's you.'

Sheppard frowned back at him, wondering if the man had lost his mind. 'Yeeaaahhh...I know it's me.'

McKay rolled his eyes in that face-slappingly irritating way he did when thinking everyone else was a complete idiot. 'I mean you're powering up the 'gate. You and your supergene have triggered it off. It's connected with you.'

'But I didn't ask it to do anything,' Sheppard protested, backing off a few steps.

'Well you must have! Just shut it down!'

'How?'

'Think it off – it's a thought powered 'gate, remember? And do it now. This thing's naquadriah-powered, if it blows you have no idea how powerful an explosion it could unleash.'

'Could it destroy five sixths of a solar system,' Sheppard growled, annoyed that McKay had laid the blame squarely on his shoulders when he'd said it was a bad idea from the start.

'Really? You're gonna bring that up now?' McKay shrieked, his eyes bright with panic.

Sheppard let it slid, chewing his lip and concentrating on the instruction.

'_Dr McKay, we have more solar activity. There are flares now – I need to raise the Daedalus' shields.'_

'Do it!' McKay shouted, his voice thick with panic. 'Sheppard!'

The experimental gate fired into life, the event horizon so close and dazzlingly bright they were forced to shield their eyes. It was stable all right, and incredibly powerful.

'It's not responding! Cut the power!' Sheppard yelled at him, both McKay and Ronon springing into action.

But before they could reach the generator it began to spark, the hot embers showering out and forcing them back, sending McKay diving for cover in the cloying mud. A few moments later the power died and the 'gate disconnected, leaving them in stark silence.

Sheppard ran over to McKay, worried the scientist had been hurt. When he rested his hand in his back, McKay twitched and lifted his muddy face. 'Is it over?'

'Yeah, it shut down,' he told him, tapping his earpiece. 'Daedalus, this is Sheppard. The 'gate suffered some kind of power overload and shut down. What's your status?'

'_Shields are holding and the solar activity appears to have died down. I take it the experiment is over for today?'_

'That's affirmative. If you give us a few minutes to collect our data, we'd appreciate a lift home.'

'_Copy that. We'll await your call.'_

McKay dragged his sorry looking carcass out of the mud and staggered to his feet. 'Aw, would you look at that! The generator's completely fried!'

'At least it didn't blow up,' Ronon pointed out, but his cheeriness did little to perk up McKay's spirits.

'Do you have any idea how much these things cost?' he sputtered, eyes bulging as he glared at the Satedan.

Ronon just shrugged. 'No.'

'That was a rhetorical question!'

'Still, at least we are all unharmed. That has to count for something,' Teyla said calmly, trying to soothe his mounting temper.

'Yes, at least there's _that_,' Sheppard stressed, joining him at the control panels. Several lights had died, and smoke curled out from under some of the panels. The thing was toast. 'What went wrong?'

'Oh, you mean apart from you firing it up when I wasn't ready?' McKay charged, clearly furious that so much of his time had amounted to such a disastrous result.

'We can play the blame game later,' Sheppard stated, keeping his voice even so he didn't fire McKay up even more. 'This could have happened whoever operated it.'

McKay sighed, his shoulders slumping as he leaned over the laptop he'd remotely interfaced with Janus' machine. 'Just gimme a minute to check the data.'

He scrolled down, doing his usual freakish job of speed-reading that no one else could compete with. 'Oh, waitwaitwaitwait. That can't be right.'

'What?' Sheppard demanded, the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly standing to rigid attention.

'It looks like the machine really did draw power from the sun to generate the wormhole...and the system reported that something completed a journey right before the generator overloaded.'

Sheppard felt his blood freeze in his veins. 'We didn't send anything through,' he pointed out.

'I know. I'm sure it's just an error...' McKay snapped, his voice trailing off as he continued to read.

'An error with the machine, or an error in your theory?' Sheppard asked, seeking clarification to assuage his rising fears.

'The first, I think,' McKay squeaked, not daring to raise his eyes from his screen.

'You think!'

'Look! There were things in the database we weren't able to retrieve, so I can't be entirely sure. And the 'gate was cut off while still operational the last time it was activated. I suppose there's a chance the forty-eight hour rule might not apply under these conditions considering the experimental nature of this machine. It could be that because the whole thing was disconnected the last information stored in the 'gate's buffers was held in stasis until it was fired up again.'

'But the last information stored wasn't complete,' Sheppard pointed out.

'No...and I suppose there's a chance that doesn't count with the experimental 'gate either. Maybe Janus designed it to send through whatever got through to save whatever lives he could. Let's face it, if the 'gate worked that way when stable, those personnel we lost on Guedeseo would have made it home alive.'

'But it's not going to be them going through, is it?' Sheppard asked, his face flushing with colour as the realisation of what this meant truly struck him. 'We know it activated several times after their data was stored, erasing them from the buffers. So that means the 'gate must have completed the last instruction from our time on Guedeseo, right?'

Rodney swallowed audibly and shrugged, raking a hand back through his receding hair. 'Hard to say. The 'gate was drawing extra energy, which suggests it was sending the wormhole somewhere other than this galaxy. And it's possible for wormholes to jump from one destination to another if they experience a sudden surge in power. Plus solar flares can make them jump through time, too.'

'Yeah, I know all that, Rodney,' Sheppard grimaced, painfully reminded of his trip to Atlantis when he'd been fired 48,000 years into the future.

'Yes, yes, of course you do. But maybe we can figure this out. What were you thinking when it fired up? You must have been thinking of somewhere for it to make a connection.'

'You wanna know what I was thinking? I was thinking 'Go to hell!' because you were pissing me off.'

McKay blinked back at him, then snorted out a laugh. 'Well, I'm pretty sure hell doesn't exist, so it's not gonna take her there, more's the pity.'

'So what you're saying is she could be anytime, anywhere?'

'Effectively...yes. But let's face it, from what you said, she was dying anyway, and now she's missing a hand. Wherever that 'gate throws her out, unless she gets immediate medical attention, she's not going to be a threat to anyone.'

That really didn't make Sheppard feel any more confident, and then to add to that, a moment of memory struck Sheppard. Maybe McKay didn't think hell existed, but he knew it did. There was a time and a place in his past when he'd thought he'd found that very place. Surely he hadn't sent Sarayah back there?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

July 8th 2003 – Kandahar Province, Afghanistan

Having narrowly avoided an RPG attack, the Blackhawk banked left to return to its original course. Vital seconds had already been lost and all reports confirmed that the attack on the Allied forces' convoy between Kandahar and Qalaf was a bad one, with more fatalities and serious injuries being reported with every passing minute. It was 1312 hours and the sun was at its highest and hottest, making the journey all the more unbearable.

'Update; four fatalities and now five critical injuries needing surgery, not including the walking wounded. Nine litters required. Three patients are ambulatory. Further enemy troops are still in the area, so we are advised to proceed with caution,' Major Sheppard called to Dhawan, the young doctor sitting behind him. 'ETA five minutes.'

Amid the heat of a desert sun reflected up all around them from the barren landscape, with not even a hint of a breeze to bring them any relief, he swept them across the Kandahar province, over sand dunes, flat lands and inhospitable mountainous regions, racing to the location of the reported RPG attack. He took them low above the route of the AH01, the main road out of Kandahar from the airport. It was further along this road, just on the far side Qalaf, that Coalition troops, Canadians he'd been told, had been hit by rocket propelled grenades, possibly fired by the same insurgents who had tried to take down their helicopter just moments ago, and were now fleeing the scene.

This place was a nightmare, a vast stretch of rocky landscape hiding innumerable Taliban fighters, many of whom had the capacity to take down a helicopter at any time. If it wasn't RPGs it was heat seeking missiles, and even with all the laser defence technology on these latest helicopters, they weren't infallible. But that was both the fear and the thrill of the place, and rescuing people in trouble was what Sheppard did best, his refusal to leave their people behind amongst hostiles driving him on. He was only sorry there were already four people at this latest attack he couldn't do anything for. For them, it was already too late.

In the distance now he could see smoke, a huge plume of thick grey smog climbing up above the peaks of the Hindu Kush mountains, the range much lower at this end than their towering neighbours heading north east. In amongst those rocky hills were small inhabited areas, and spots of random greenery that never ceased to amaze him. He couldn't imagine spending his whole life in a this place. His tour of duty was plenty long enough, and the heat was almost unbearable on days like this. He swiped the sweat from his eyes with his wristband as he homed in on the smoke rising from their destination, realising just how serious it was from the sheer amount of billowing grey clouds expanding in their line of vision.

'Looks like a bad one,' his co-pilot said without emotion. They'd seen so many explosions caused by RPGs, roadside bombs and suicide bombers, so much death and devastation in the past several months, that it was something they routinely expected to deal with now. A day without incident was a very good day in Afghanistan, and there weren't many of them. Activity ranged from harmless exchanges of weapons fire, to mostly minor injuries requiring non-emergency evacuation, but this one was going to take more than just one helicopter to deal with. His understanding was there were currently three helicopters converging on the scene of the attack; three would hopefully be enough to evacuate the area since there were still two roadworthy vehicles in the convoy.

'Could you take us in as close as possible, Major? Every second counts,' Captain Dhawan instructed him, and he nodded as they neared the location.

'Understood.'

Sheppard took them in lower as they approached the carnage, trying not to fan the flames by cutting engines as soon as was possible. They were the first copter to arrive at the scene, and Dhawan and his medical team were already jumping out before he'd securely landed it. He and Martinez, his co-pilot, leapt out and joined them as soon as they had everything shut down.

The scene was the usual story except even more so. On this occasion, three of the five vehicles in the convoy had been damaged and now lay in various stages of devastation on the road. One had clearly taken a direct hit in the side, having been torn apart and left flaming on its roof, bodies littering the ground around it. The personnel carrier behind it had been struck by debris from the first, damaging it, but not so much that the passengers couldn't get out reasonably unscathed and then the third had been hit by another RPG, the front sheared off and the rest smouldering where it stood, leaving only the two vehicles at the rear of the group undamaged.

It was hard to know what to do first, but Sheppard waited to see which way the medics headed, then made himself useful checking who else needed medical attention. The uninjured personnel from the other vehicles were doing what they could to comfort and apply emergency first aid to those who were badly injured and in distress, so he hurried to those who were lying motionless, checking they really were the lost cause they appeared to be. He figured in the chaos and shock it was possible someone could have overlooked faint life signs.

With most of the fatalities it was clear with one look that they were gone, their bodies shattered and burned, but he forced himself to check, even though the sights there were enough to make even the most hardened military man cry. There was blood everywhere, smouldering bodies with partially severed limbs hung out of the first vehicle, though a dragging trail of blood in the dust showed someone had crawled away from it still alive. He checked those where he thought there might be the faintest chance they were still alive, but each time his heart sank at the lack of output. And for most of them there was very little reason to even think about attempting resuscitation. That was until he rounded the third vehicle and found someone lying face down in the dirt, partially hidden by the vehicle.

A mass of matted black hair lay draped across the woman's face, hiding her expression and complexion and leaving him guessing about her status until he dragged it away and checked for breathing. He leaned in close to verify any signs of life and felt warmth on his ear and cheek – she was still alive. Oddly, she didn't look like she belonged to the convoy; she wasn't dressed like the others and her dishevelled appearance seemed to be down to more than just the explosion. Her clothes weren't proper uniform; for one thing none of the items matched and not one of them resembled the desert fatigues the rest of the convoy were wearing. The black shirt was military all right, but the lighter coloured trousers and boots certainly weren't. The footwear actually looked like they might have been hand crafted, and the trousers were ill fitting, swamping her feminine form. He tipped her head back a little and checked her airway was clear, looking her over for any obvious injuries, realising then that blood was pooling from beneath her somewhere. Whatever her injury was, she needed immediate medical attention.

'I need someone over here now!' he yelled, straining his neck to peer over the wrecked truck. Dhawan heard him above the noise and darted around to him with his medical kit.

'What do we have?'

'Unidentified female, unconscious but still breathing. She's bleeding out somewhere pretty heavily.'

'She doesn't look like one of ours,' Dhawan muttered as he quickly felt for her pulse. 'Could be a civilian.'

'Does that make a difference?'

'No, it's just an observation. Ah, here you go. Help me roll her over.'

Sheppard did so, slowly rolling her top half in time with Dhawan as he turned her hips and legs, so as not to severely aggravate any possible spinal injuries. Her right arm had been trapped beneath her, but he could see now it was minus a hand, and that was the injury causing her most significant blood loss.

'Lucky she's unconscious. That's probably reduced the bleeding,' the medic mused, raking through his kit until he found his tourniquet strap and applying it over the sleeve of her injured arm. Once the worst of the bleeding had slowed he began to apply a field dressing to the open wound. 'Have a look around, Major, see if you can find her hand. If we can, and we cool it quickly, we might be able to save it.'

Sheppard scrambled to his feet and began a search of the area. There was nothing near that third vehicle, so he looked further away amongst the other damaged trucks. It was hard to discern what everything was, there were so many dismembered body parts and lumps of flesh from the fatalities alongside vehicle upholstery saturated in blood. He burned his hands shifting hot metal from around the other vehicles, but he couldn't locate the missing hand. He returned to Dhawan's side with the news of his failure to see if he could be of any further use.

'Keep the limb elevated for me while I check her for other injuries,' the doctor told him. 'I've stemmed the worst of the blood flow, but we need to keep it above her heart to prevent more loss.'

Sheppard took hold of her arm, her sleeve tacky with blood, and kept it raised, relieved the injury was now covered because it had turned his stomach when he'd first seen it, as did everything about this place. He'd thought it sounded like hell on Earth on the flight out when he'd received the details. Now, amidst the carnage and flames, he couldn't help but see the resemblance to his mental images of that terrible place that had been instilled in him since childhood in Miss Haroldson's Sunday School classes. Man, that woman had enjoyed putting the fear of God into kids.

The injured woman's arm weighed heavy in his hand, and he gritted his teeth against the stinging pain of his burnt palms, determined to help in some way even if he hadn't found her hand.

Dhawan opened up the black shirt, revealing the woman's slim but muscular physique beneath. Sheppard averted his gaze even though she was unconscious, feeling a little like a voyeur while she lay so vulnerable in his grip. He noticed the smell of burnt skin and singed hair hanging over her now, and risked a glance, spotting patches of scorched flesh and hideous bruising all over her torso, before he turned away again to spare her dignity.

'I think we're looking at internal injuries here judging by this bruising. We need to move her out now. Litter!'

One of his colleagues came running over carrying a litter and unfurling it beside the woman.

'You notice this?' Dhawan suddenly asked him, and he signalled to the shoulder of her left sleeve, which was adorned with an American flag, albeit difficult to make out since it was drenched in blood and encrusted in dirt. It struck Sheppard as odd, since these were mostly Canadian troops to the best of his knowledge, and yet here she was, an exotic looking beauty dressed in a black US military BDU shirt. It was as if she'd dropped out of the sky and landed in amongst the wreckage. Her presence there, and her appearance, made no sense at all. But now was not the time to try to figure it all out; they had to get her to an infirmary.

From behind him, he heard the sound of another Blackhawk coming in to land, bringing more much needed medical help. Dust and burning detritus bowled around them, and Sheppard leaned in over the woman to shield her face and airway from the flying dirt. She stirred, groaning, her lids flickering open though her eyes remained glazed at first. They rolled back, and then moments later came to focus on him. The utter rage that glowed out of them took his breath away, and she grabbed his flight suit with her left hand, holding him close to her. 'See? I wasn't judged. I am still here!'

Then, she looked at her injured arm, the one he was still supporting, and she screamed so long and so loud that it drowned out the approaching second helicopter and practically burst his eardrums. It was only when Dhawan jabbed her with a syringe that she finally quieted and he was able to break her grip on his clothes.

'Okay, let's get her on board and out of here,' the medic yelled over the din of the other helicopter as it landed not so far from them. And now, in the distance, a third chopper was coming into view, a Pave Hawk this time. With two more craft now here Sheppard felt comfortable with moving the casualties they had in their care.

The airmen snatched up the litter and ran back to their helicopter, Sheppard keeping pace and wondering what had been in the woman's mind when she'd spoken of being judged. She'd been delirious, he supposed, but the way she'd looked at him, as if she could kill him, had been quite a shock.

A couple more of the casualties were loaded on board and then he set the craft in motion, biting his lip as a wave of nauseous pain shot up both his arms as he gripped the controls and set them in motion. He rode the discomfort to get them airborne, lifting them up and turning them in the direction of Kandahar Airport to admit their new passengers to the Role 3 hospital there, hopefully in time to prevent the insurgents from scoring any more fatalities on his watch.

oooOOOooo

First Lieutenant Susie Harris had been nursing at the Role 3 hospital unit in Kandahar Airport for just a shade over 4 months in this current posting, and in the two years since the invasion of Afghanistan, she'd seen sights she'd hoped never to see in her life. So the injuries of this latest intake were just the run of the mill abdominal and limb injuries for someone as seasoned as she was.

The first of that new intake had recently emerged from surgery and was now in recovery, still labouring under the effects of the anaesthetic. The surgeon had carried out extensive work on her both internally and externally, repairing injuries to a ruptured intestine and spleen, and also repairing the severed arteries in her right wrist following the amputation of her hand in the RPG attack outside of Qalaf. She had survived against the odds, despite suffering multiple critical injuries and severe blood loss, no doubt down to her apparent physical fitness prior to the incident. But how she had managed to pull through was less of a mystery than ascertaining who she actually was. No one had a clue.

She'd been brought in wearing a black military shirt, bearing the American flag on the left sleeve, but on the right, deeply stained by her blood, a different emblem could be seen, one no one who had seen it could identify. It appeared to say the word 'ATLANTIS', though the second A was strangely depicted without its bar and topped with a small circle, and beneath it was a winged horse surrounded by a geometric pattern. Susie and the other nurses had been examining it since the woman had come in, taking photographs that could be sent to various people for identification, but so far they had no answer to the puzzle. Atlantis was not a recognised unit in the US's or any other country's military as far as any of them were aware.

One thing Susie did know was that this woman didn't _look_ military...at least not like any coalition forces she'd ever seen. There was something rather feral about her long, dark tresses, more knotted than normal even for someone who had been through her experience. And there was no evidence that it had been tied up out of the way as was required of troops in action. Hair bands left regular indentations in hair, and there had been no sign of that in this woman's locks as she'd carefully brushed out the worst of the tangles, some too matted with blood to deal with until the woman was well enough to get properly cleaned up.

She was just checking the patient's saline and morphine drips when she began to rouse, squirming slightly in the bed before her eyes opened a crack and she peered around the room.

'Hello there,' Susie smiled, leaning over her and laying her hand on her left arm. 'You need to take it easy. You've just had major surgery, so don't try to move too much.'

Despite that advice, the woman immediately tried to push herself up, cringing when the movement ignited pain in her body.

'Please...like I said, try not to move,' Susie repeated, keeping her smile plastered on to reassure the patient. 'Can you tell me your name?'

The woman's eyes opened a little wider and drifted toward her right arm where it was lying elevated at her side. Tears sprang up, and she closed her lids again as if shutting out the reality of her situation a little longer.

'Oh, come on now. I know it must be a terrible shock, but we can do wonders with prosthetic limbs these days. You just concentrate on getting better and in a few days this won't seem so bad.'

Susie was just wondering whether the woman actually spoke any English when she rolled her head to face her and asked, 'Where is he?'

Susie blinked at her. 'Where's who?'

'John Sheppard.'

The name didn't ring any bells with her. He certainly didn't work in the unit. 'Uh, I don't know. Is he someone you were travelling with?'

'The pilot.'

'The pilot? You weren't brought in with any pilot.'

Clearly agitated now, the woman pinned her with a fierce glare, making Susie glad she was too badly hurt to get out of that bed. 'I need to see Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Get him now!'

Susie noticed now how dark the woman's eyes were, seeing almost no differentiation between iris and pupil. It gave her an edge...a distinctly threatening look. 'Well, whoever this Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard is, I'm sure what you have to say to him can wait until you're a little stronger. Now, why don't you tell me your name and we'll start over again.'

The woman angrily held her gaze, then, whether it was resignation or sheer exhaustion that caused it, she relaxed back against her pillows and closed her eyes once more. 'Sarayah. My name is Sarayah.'

'Sarayah?' Susie repeated, allowing the name to roll off her tongue. 'That's a very pretty name. And do you have a surname to go with that?'

'A what?'

That seemed odd to Susie. Admittedly, the woman had a certain Mediterranean look about her, but she surely knew about surnames – her English sounded faultless, after all. This could be a sign of post traumatic stress, so she made a note on her chart to monitor the patient for other signs.

'Your surname. My name is Susie Harris. Harris is my surname...my family name.'

The woman appeared to take in what she was saying, then replied, 'I am Sarayah of Medulsa...at least, I was once.'

Medulsa? That wasn't a place Susie was familiar with. 'I see. Where is that exactly?'

'Where am I?' the woman demanded, turning the question back on her.

Again, Susie tried not to show any reaction to the odd question. She'd come across memory loss a number of times, so it was not exactly a surprise. 'You're in Afghanistan.'

Sarayah frowned. 'I don't think I've heard of this planet. Who do you trade with?'

'Well, that's quite a complicated story, so I think before I explain, it might be better for you to get some more rest,' Susie smiled, calmly adjusting her saline feed. Then she laid the box with the emergency call button next to Sarayah on the left side of the bed. 'You try to get some sleep and I'm sure everything will seem a lot clearer when you wake up. If you need anything, just press that button and we'll come running.'

She headed back out of recovery, giving her patient one last glance as she left. Sarayah, if that _was _her name, hadn't suffered a serious head injury, but it seemed the trauma had seriously affected her recall. She thought Afghanistan was a planet, as if she moved between planets all the time. That was a new one on her. She'd never had a planet-hopping trauma patient before, or one so certain they had to see someone the moment they woke. So she decided to do what she could to find out who this "Sarayah of Medulsa" really was and where she came from, wondering if tracking down Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard would help...if he existed at all. It seemed to her the biggest clue to the woman's identity might be in that strange patch on the shirt she'd been wearing, the one bearing the winged horse. It had to have some symbolic meaning that somebody somewhere would understand.

oooOOOooo

_August 3__rd__ 2003 – Cheyenne Mountain Complex_

'So this is the mystery woman, huh?' Sam Carter asked as she arrived beside Dr Fraiser in the observation balcony, looking down on the sleeping beauty in the bed in the room beneath them.

'That's right, and as yet, no one has even the first clue who she is. Her name and DNA have been run through every database we hold, and we can't find a single trace. It's as if she appeared out of thin air.'

'So what_ is_ her name?'

'She calls herself Sarayah of Medulsa, that's as much as she's said so far. And she keeps asking for a,' Janet flipped through the file of information that had arrived with her patient, 'Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.'

The name wasn't one Carter was familiar with, so certainly wasn't part of the programme. 'Has anyone traced him?'

'Well, there are several John Sheppard's in the military under different spellings, but she hasn't spoken to any of them yet. The president ordered her flown in from Landstuhl so we could check her out before we follow up any more leads. I think it was her request to be shown the way to the...' Again she flipped through Sarayah's information file. '...Ring of the Ancestors that grabbed his attention. Once he got hold of that piece of information, he decided she was someone we should meet.'

'Good morning,' Colonel O'Neill chirped as he joined them, rubbing his hands together. 'I hear Landstuhl shipped us a crazy to check out.'

Sam suppressed a sigh, but Janet took his abuse in good humour. After so many years working with him, everyone was used to the colonel's brash comments, some even thought them endearing. But sometimes, just sometimes, Sam thought his habit of making everything into a joke was damned irritating and she wished he would take things more seriously.

'Actually, Colonel, we haven't ascertained whether she's crazy or not yet. That's kind of the reason she's here,' Fraiser told him, passing him the file.

He looked unimpressed by its thickness, briefly flicking through it, while curling his lip. 'Anything interesting I oughta know?' he asked, obviously hoping someone would save him the time of reading it all.

Sam decided to help him out, knowing his deep loathing of paperwork meant he was unlikely to read it as thoroughly as required. 'She was picked up after an RPG attack on a coalition convoy on the road to Qalaf. She was evacuated first to Roll 3 at Kandahar Airport, then airevaced to Landstuhl for further treatment. She lost her hand –'

'Yes...I'd noticed that,' the colonel commented, holding up a page displaying a photograph of the injury.

'If I could just interrupt...does anyone else think it's odd how neatly that hand was severed? Normally an explosion would leave far more damage –' Janet asked, squinting at the image.

'Losing a hand not enough for ya?' the colonel quipped, turning the picture back to himself and looking at it again.

'The severance is clean, almost a perfect line. In blast amputations the wounds are usually more... ragged.'

The colonel pulled a sour face at that mental image and continued to read.

Sam looked at the currently sleeping woman and frowned. 'What are you saying?'

'I don't really know,' Janet admitted. 'It's just another unusual thing to add to the list of mysteries. Apparently the front of the vehicle she was found beside was sheared off neatly too. No sign of it or her severed hand has ever been found.'

'Incinerated?' the colonel offered.

'Perhaps,' Janet shrugged.

'So, not only can we find no trace of her anywhere in the world, and no one from the convoy that got attacked remembers her even being with them prior to the explosion, but even her injuries don't add up?' Sam clarified.

'And then there's her clothes,' Janet added.

Both Sam and the colonel perked up at that. 'What about her clothes?' they asked simultaneously.

Janet gave them a wry smile. 'I think you'd better both come with me.'

oooOOOooo

In Janet's office, Sam and Jack took a seat and watched as she picked up a parcel and pulled out several items of clothing, all carefully packaged and labelled.

'According to those records,' she said, dipping her head toward the file O'Neill had just dropped onto her desk, 'Sarayah has continually talked in a manner that suggests she's from another planet.'

'You don't say,' O'Neill quipped, with a tight smile. They'd had more than their fair share of whackos come through the doors of the Cheyenne Mountain facility claiming to be visitors from other worlds, and they'd dutifully checked them out, but most had turned out to be escapees from the mental healthcare system or hoaxes. On the odd occasion there had been some truth to the claims, Hathor being the one that sprang to mind as he thought about the woman lying in their isolation room. She'd had a similar dusky complexion, the same kind of strong yet attractive features, and she had wreaked total havoc, seducing the men on base and rapidly bringing them all under her control. He shuddered at the vague memory he still held of her turning him into one of her Jaffa; the feel of that tub of goa'uld symbiotes squirming around his body still haunted him to this day. That was an experience he was definitely in no hurry to repeat.

'We checked her for a Goa'uld, right?' he clarified.

'We did,' Dr Fraiser assured him, 'although with all the treatment she's received prior to coming here, I think it would have been picked up before. Not surprisingly, she's symbiote free. Her recovery would have been much easier otherwise. _This _is what has everyone most interested.'

She pushed one of the bags of clothing toward him, then passed him a pair of latex gloves. O'Neill forced them on, hating the restrictive feel of them and the way they pulled at the hairs on the backs of his hands. Then he unpackaged the item, spreading it out on the desk for both he and Carter to examine. It was a black military shirt, not standard issue for the troops in Afghanistan, and there was an American flag on the left sleeve.

'Okay, that's odd,' he admitted. 'Where'd she get it?'

'She says she took it from a Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard when they were trapped together on another planet.'

O'Neill stared back at her, blinking a few times while he tried to make sense of that. 'I'm sorry...what?'

'She claims to have met a Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard on another planet. She says he's Air Force and she's even quoted his serial number. She says this is his shirt, and he's the one who hurt her.'

'Well...that's not possible. We have no Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard in the programme,' he pointed out, but beside him he could almost hear Carter's considerable brain firing up.

'Maybe we shouldn't be so quick to dismiss this, Sir. There are possibilities.'

'Alternate reality?' he asked, his head already starting to ache just thinking about that.

'Or time travel,' she added. 'We've seen a lot of strange stuff, Sir. I think we need to explore this further.'

'You might want to take a look at this before you do.' Janet, wearing her own pair of latex gloves now, turned the garment so the right sleeve was more visible. Though stained by old blood, there was an insignia there. It read 'ATLANTIS' with the picture of a winged horse emerging from a...

'Is that a...?'

'A 'gate chevron. Yes, Sir,' Carter confirmed, smoothing out the patch as best she could. 'At least it looks that way to me.'

A knock at the office door announced the arrival of Daniel, his face flushed from having obviously rushed to join them. 'Ah, I was told I could find you here. I understand we have a new guest.'

O'Neill picked up the file and tossed it to him, Daniel just managing to catch it and turning it to begin flicking through.

'Yes, she's a bit of a mystery woman,' he told him as the archaeologist swiftly scanned for important details, grimacing as he came across the photographs. 'She's been asking about the Ring of the Ancestors.'

'Ring of the Ancestors, huh?' He continued to flick through and read, the significance of O'Neill's statement suddenly dawning on him. 'You think she means the Stargate?'

'Well, how many other old rings do you know of?' he asked.

Daniel's eyebrows lifted. 'Actually, the circle is quite a widely used geometric shape in ancient architecture, that's ancient as in old, not Ancient as in 'the Ancients'. She could be referring to one of numerous stone circles dotted around the planet, or perhaps she's referring to some form of Ancient geometry...the study of circles goes back beyond recorded history.'

O'Neill blinked back at him and waited for him to finish listing his knowledge. Then he asked, 'Feel better for getting all that off your chest?'

'Yes...actually,' Daniel retorted without a flicker of annoyance. 'I'm just pointing out that we shouldn't jump to conclusions just because she's mentioned a circle...although the fact she claims to be from a planet called Medulsa does rather point toward it being a Stargate...'

O'Neill just gestured his "I told you so" with a sharp jab of his hand toward the file.

Daniel flipped over the page, then held the file up to Janet. 'So, she definitely wrote this?'

Inside a plastic sleeve was a hand scribbled note. 'That's my understanding,' the doctor nodded. 'The medical team at Landstuhl asked her to write in her native language figuring they might be able to trace her native country from the letter forms she used. That's what she produced.'

Daniel ran his eyes over it again, his eyes darting across the words, his face fixed in a mask of concentration.

'Do you recognise it, Daniel?' Carter asked.

'Uh, yes...at least kind of...I think.'

'Do you or don't you?' O'Neill asked again, forcing the man off his fence.

'It appears to be a derivative of Ancient.'

'Ancient as in 'the Ancients' I take it.'

Daniel lifted his eyes from the page and frowned at him. 'Of course.'

'Can you figure out what it says?' O'Neill ventured.

'I just need to figure out a point of reference. Can I take this?'

'Of course,' Janet nodded. And then, as was so often the case, they all found themselves following Daniel at break-neck speed along SGC corridors until he reached his cluttered office and rifled through a huge pile of notebooks to find the one he wanted. Then he laid the file open on the desk beside him and began to compare marks.

Knowing it might take him some time, O'Neill found his attention wandering. Daniel's office was a veritable treasure trove of artefacts and curiosities, and to someone like him, who found it difficult not to meddle with things, the temptation to mess with the collections on display always proved too much. He picked up some kind of wand thing with grassy protuberances spurting out of one end, something to do with medicine, he seemed to recall. He swatted it into his palm and then set it down, picking up a bowl full of small stones covered in marks, examining them.

'Okay, I think I have something,' Daniel eventually announced. 'It looks pretty similar to Ancient...only minor differences.' His cool blue eyes came to rest on O'Neill and the bowl of runes, and so he set them down and did his best to look attentive.

'Part of the problem was the mark making was very shaky, understandable if she was originally right-handed and now she has to use her left. From what I can make out it says, 'I am Sarayah of Medulsa. Daughter of Tanarah. I wish to speak to Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard of Atlantis, the city of the Ancestors.'

'Persistent, ain't she?' O'Neill quipped as this Sheppard's name came up again.

'So, does anyone know who this John Sheppard guy is?' Daniel asked.

'Well, there is a John Sheppard in the air force and he did bring her in during the casevac, but he's a major and not a lieutenant colonel. So the general theory is that she overheard his name at some point during her rescue, and due to her trauma, she's managed to weave him into her story to a point where now even she believes she knows him better than she does,' Fraiser explained.

'Except, according to this, she gave his serial number...and it matched,' Daniel reported, having reached that piece of information.

'Yes...except that,' she admitted.

Daniel looked up from the file and fixed his gaze on O'Neill. 'So, she must have met him prior to the evacuation. It might be worth talking to him.'

'Actually, I think we should probably talk to her first. No point in dragging a man all the way over here on a wild goose chase if she just managed to pick his details up from his personnel file somehow,' O'Neill pointed out. Sometimes egg-heads had no common sense at all.

'Although I'm not sure how she would have done that, I agree we should speak with her first, Sir,' Carter agreed. 'Is she up to answering some questions, Janet?'

The doctor nodded. 'I think so. I moved her to the isolation room until I could run all the appropriate checks, but she's more than two weeks post surgery, she could be moved to quarters.'

'With the appropriate security measures,' O'Neill piped up.

'Of course,' she agreed.

'Okay, kids,' Jack announced with a smile, 'sounds to me like this is right up your avenue. You two talk to the...young lady, and I'll go do...somethin' else.'

'Such as?' Daniel enquired, narrowing his eyes.

'Oh, you know. Colonel things,' he replied airily, wandering out of the room to leave them to it.

Interrogating fruit loops really wasn't his thing. He didn't have the temperament, but Carter and Daniel, they had endless patience. No one could ever say Jack O'Neill didn't know his own limits.

Now he intended to go sample the food in the mess. He considered it his duty every day to try a good cross-section to ensure their meals were up to standard. Now that was definitely a job well within his limits.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the reviews and alerts, etc., plus the warm welcome back so many of you gave me. I had no idea anyone had missed me! I hope you're all still enjoying the story and please don't forget to let me know what you think. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 **

Sheppard handed the cab driver $40 and told him to keep the change. He was dog tired and couldn't be bothered to wait while the man groped around for the right money just so he could tip him anyway.

The man thanked him and set off before he could even pick his kit bag up from the kerb. Sheppard remained there a moment, looking at his house and wishing it didn't feel so...uninviting. Now home, he missed the buzz and the camaraderie of his unit back in Afghanistan. Here, well, here he knew whatever problems he faced were his in the making. Here, he wasn't battling bad guys, just personal demons...and a wife who was tiring of the emotional strain it took to reach him.

Shouldering his bag, he dug deep into his pocket to find his front door key and headed down the path to let himself in.

The house was, as always, spotless. It seemed somehow sterile compared to what he faced out on duty. Sanitised. Just like the truth of his marriage. To outsiders, he and Nancy probably looked like the ideal couple, successful professionals with everything to live for, and their home was bright and uncluttered as if reflective of a simple happiness. Of course, both he and Nancy knew that couldn't be further from the truth. Their marriage was dying, withering without the love and attentiveness he should have given her. But he just couldn't do it. It all felt too perfect somehow, had done from the very day she'd agreed to marry him. And his disbelief that he deserved someone like Nancy was forcing them apart even though he suspected she really had wanted him as much as he wanted her.

It was stiflingly quiet as he walked through the lobby and into the living room. Everything sat just about where it had been when he'd last left the house. Sure, the book on the coffee table was a different one, and the TV remote was maybe a little further to the right beside it, but it was almost exactly as he remembered. So much order – so much cohesion. He was used to reacting to chaos, to thinking on his feet, to fighting for his life and the lives of others. This was too neat... too ordered. He felt like moving things just for the sake of it, maybe putting all the cushions at one end of the sofa instead of neatly spaced and exactly angled, or perhaps rearranging the ornaments on the bookshelves, but he wouldn't. This was Nancy's space...and this was how she dealt with her inner turmoil. It was childish to even think of changing things just to get a reaction.

With a sigh, he took his kit upstairs and prepared to unpack, deciding against it in the end, and instead dumping the heavy bag in one of their guest bedrooms. It spoiled the neatness and order in that room, but it wasn't in use so he could shut the door on it and forget about it until he was less tired in the morning.

Right now, his priority was taking a shower, changing his clothes, and getting something to eat and drink, and although he would prefer to do that in some other order, he knew if he sat down and relaxed he wouldn't be able to force himself back up off the sofa to get cleaned up.

So, he headed into his bedroom – Nancy's bedroom really, the finish far too precise and feminine for him to lay any claim to – and pulled out a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his wardrobe, tossing them onto the bed for when he was ready. That done, he headed into the en-suite and set the shower running to give the water time to warm up while he stripped down and threw his clothes into the laundry hamper. He'd been travelling for over thirty-six hours to get home now, catching sleep where he could, and his clothes had begun to feel like they were welded to him. It was a relief to be free of them, and he gave himself a moment to just enjoy the feel of the comfortable heat of his air conditioned home on his skin before getting clean. He pulled out a towel and his bottle of shower gel from the bathroom cabinet, noting Nancy's toiletries neatly arranged on her side of the mirrored cupboard. He pulled out a bottle of her body spray and gave it a squirt, just to feel like he had company, the distinctive floral aroma reminding him of happier times before his inadequacies and his job had wedged themselves firmly between them. Sometimes he wished he'd taken the easy route in life and followed in his father's footsteps to take up a position in the family business, but only sometimes. He knew it would never have actually worked, the two of them working together. In some ways they were too alike, neither of them liking to take advice from others. No, he'd been better leaving the business to Dave; he was happy to brown-nose so long as he was well paid for it.

He took his time in the shower, just leaning against the back wall for a long time and allowing the water to relax his aching limbs. Then, realising he was likely to fall asleep in there if he got any more relaxed, he washed up and jumped out, tying a towel around his hips while he shaved and splashed on some aftershave, before rubbing his damp hair almost dry and heading back into the bedroom. As he pulled out his underwear and socks a flashing red light caught his eye, and he realised there was a message on the telephone on Nancy's nightstand. He leaned over and pressed the button to listen to it, hearing her voice for the first time in weeks.

'Hi...it's me...I thought you might be back by now, but I guess not. Anyway, I'm just calling to let you know something urgent came up at work so I'm gonna have to stay late tonight. Help yourself to whatever food there is and...don't wait up.'

Sheppard stared at the answer phone as if that might somehow make the message sound...warmer. No 'Hope you had a good trip', or 'I'll call later to make sure you're there,' not even a 'Love you' to finish, just 'don't wait up'. After six months apart, did she really care so little that she couldn't delegate for one night? Yeah, he supposed that was the case, and he couldn't blame her. And after the dozens of times he'd had to head out leaving her scribbled notes or phone messages with no clue as to where he was going or when he'd be back, he supposed he couldn't blame her.

With her emotionless message playing on loop in his head, he dressed and headed down to the kitchen to see what he could rustle up, deciding to seek out the positives in the call. She had at least called, not texted, so she had probably been hoping to talk to him. That was a good thing.

He headed straight for the fridge, finding a six pack of Bud chilling on the top shelf. At least she'd thought that much about him. He pulled one free and cracked it open as he perused the contents of the fridge, deciding it all looked like it would take far more time to prepare than he wanted to put into it. So he ordered a pizza and ambled into the living room, putting his feet up on the coffee table and flicking through TV channels until he found a quiz show to occupy his mind. He'd found quizzes, computer games and Sudoku to be the best ways to keep his brain busy and stop his mind from wandering to the many sights he'd rather forget from his tour of duty, and right now, a quiz was the best one because it required absolutely no physical input from his exhausted body.

He had been spouting answers at the screen and decrying the ineptitude of the contestants for fifteen minutes when the doorbell rang. He checked his watch, thinking it was a little quick to be the pizza, but hopeful all the same. When he reached the door, he realised he had indeed been too optimistic. The man on the doorstep wasn't carrying a pizza box, just a notebook.

'Oh...oh, hi!' he blustered, his face colouring up to the almost exact same shade of his red sweater. 'I saw the TV on and thought Nancy was home. You must be John.' He shoved the book under his left arm and thrust out his right hand for a handshake.

Sheppard accepted the gesture. 'That's right, and you are?'

'Grant...I moved in across the street a couple of months ago. Nancy and I got chatting a few weeks back and discovered we shared a love of cooking. She loaned me her book of favourite recipes she's been collecting so I could copy any I liked the sound of...I was just returning it.'

'Ah, right,' Sheppard nodded, looking at the book still tucked under Grant's arm and wondering when he was going to get around to the returning it part. 'Well, nice to meet you, Grant.'

'Oh, and I just wanted to say that I think what you guys do out in Afghanistan...you know, keeping those Taliban in order, I wanted to say you're doing a great job,' he stammered, firing off a sheepish grin and rocking back on his heels.

Sheppard couldn't help noticing how uncomfortable the guy seemed about talking to him, and the way he kept looking past him into the house. He really wanted to talk to Nancy.

'Uh, Nancy isn't here. She's working late tonight. I'll take that for her, shall I?'

'Oh...oh, yeah. Tell her I said thanks,' Grant nodded, sliding the book out and passing it to him.

The pizza delivery truck chose that moment to turn up, clearly demonstrating that Sheppard himself didn't share his wife's enthusiasm for all things culinary.

'Pizza, huh?' Grant grinned , thumbing back at it. 'Can't say I blame you. Pity Nancy couldn't be here to cook you up one of those dishes.'

'Yeah, it is. Well, it's been real nice meeting you, Grant,' he repeated, hoping the guy would take the hint.

'You too, John. Keep up the good work.'

Sheppard didn't answer that, just watched the man all the way back across to his house until the pizza delivery guy shoved a box into his face to remind him he was waiting for payment.

He settled the bill, plus a little on top, and then closed the door on the world, heading back to the lounge. He pulled out the biggest slice in the box and absently bit into it as he opened Nancy's notebook on his lap and leafed through, finding dozens of recipes, some cut out of magazines, some photocopied and some jotted down in her meticulously beautiful handwriting. She'd never cooked any of them for him, not one, and yet she'd shared this book and her love of cooking with Grant and he was almost a complete stranger.

Then he thought about the awkwardness in the guy's manner when he'd found him there and not his wife, and the formal way in which he'd shaken his hand, squeezing it in an alpha male kind of challenge.

Perhaps he'd been wrong about the man. Perhaps Grant wasn't almost a complete stranger to Nancy after all.

oooOOOooo

After their guest had been moved to more comfortable quarters, with a locking door and two guards for good measure, Daniel arrived at those quarters to collect her for their first interview. As he slipped in through the door, the look she gave him made him incredibly uncomfortable, almost as if _he_ were the one being evaluated, not her. She sat on the edge of her bed peering back over her shoulder at him, her eyes drifting from his face down to his boots and back up again, but her expression reflecting no warmth or welcome. He chose to ignore the cool reception and press on with the task he'd been charged with.

'Uh, hi, Sarayah. I hope you're settling in.'

'This place is like a prison cell...no light, no air,' she grunted, turning away from him and folding her arms across herself. 'I've tended animals living in better accommodation than this.'

Well, that hadn't quite been the answer he'd expected, but he decided not to ask her how many prison cells she'd frequented and tried to make friends with her instead.

'Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. This is actually one of our better rooms...you should see mine...' She glared back at him, clearly unmoved by his tale. '...in comparison to this,' he finished, his voice fading as he realised his attempt at levity had failed completely.

'But you aren't forced to stay here, are you?' she asked, turning away and facing a painting on the back wall, an impressive depiction of the Grand Canyon.

'No, no I'm not...but neither are you...not exactly.'

That seemed to pique her interest and she turned his way again, standing at last. 'Then I'm not a prisoner?'

'No...not a prisoner,' Daniel drawled, certain he knew where this line of questioning was going.

'So I'm free to leave?'

'Well, no...not really.' He scratched his head, thinking about how best to word his explanation. 'You see, you've been telling us you're from another planet, and...well, it wouldn't be fair of us to just let you got out in our big, bad world alone.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'I believe I could handle this "Earth" of yours.'

Now that he didn't doubt for a second. 'Yes...yes, you probably could, but we'd prefer to prepare you a little for what you can expect out there. Besides...you still need medical care,' he told her, dipping his head toward her missing hand.

She put that arm behind her back as if trying to forget about it. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded, her dark eyes flashing with annoyance.

'Ah, well, we were hoping you would answer some questions for us. If we ever want to find a way of sending you home, we need some better clues about where exactly "home" is.'

Her eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down again. 'You would do that for me? Send me home?'

'Sure. If we can.'

'You possess a Ring of the Ancestors?'

'Well...that depends on what you mean by –'

'A Stargate...that's what John Sheppard called it.'

And there it was, proof positive that she had knowledge of the Stargate. Along with that name again. But how would John Sheppard have known anything about the Stargate if he was running casualty evacuation flights in Afghanistan? Someone else had obviously told her the name they used for the 'gate, and they were always careful not to give that kind of information away to just anyone. 'This Mr Sheppard seems to know an awful lot,' he muttered.

'Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard,' she growled, slowly enunciating each word as if he'd gravely insulted the man.

'Sorry, yes...of course.'

Daniel found her reaction rather odd. He'd been led to believe from her file that she hated this Sheppard guy, yet here she was defending him, insisting he use the man's full rank when talking about him. Still, he figured he might be able to use this obvious "interest" in the man to draw her out. 'Well, if you're feeling up to it, we'd like to hear more about you...and this Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. It might help us to figure out how best to help you.'

She stared at him a moment without answering. He got the feeling he was dealing with a very sharp mind in this one, always gauging things before speaking, deciding just how much to give away. Then she nodded. 'Very well.'

'Great. If you'd follow me this way.' He pointed at the door and scuttled out of it, hearing Sarayah's solid, confident steps just behind him. She didn't carry herself like a lost soul with no place to go. She barely showed any sign of concern at all for the fact she was supposedly displaced from all she found familiar.

The guards walked along just behind them both, accompanying them into the elevator to take them down two floors to where Sam was waiting in a room they'd set up for the interrogation. He opened the door and allowed Sarayah to enter first, the woman now showing the first signs of any kind of unease as she faltered a few steps beyond the threshold.

Sam was standing in front of the table, fingers casually knitted in front of her, wearing a warm smile. 'Hi Sarayah, I'm –'

'Colonel Samantha Carter,' Sarayah finished for her. 'But you look...different. Your hair...it was much longer when we last met.'

Sam's jaw dropped, but she recovered well. 'Actually it's _Major _Samantha Carter, and this is how I always look. How do you know my name?'

Daniel watched a frown score its way into Sarayah's forehead. 'We've met before. Don't you recall?'

So now, not only had this John Sheppard guy supposedly been in her galaxy, but Sam had too. Either Sarayah's delusions were becoming more complex or there really was some truth to the alternate reality theory, especially since she'd said Sam looked different.

'Really?' Sam looked at Daniel, clearly concerned.

'You remember, we met on a planet where people who committed terrible crimes went to be judged.'

Recalling what Sarayah had supposedly said when picked up by the helicopter, Daniel steered her toward the chair on the far side of the table where the camera was aimed. Behind it, they'd set up a forty inch screen to enlarge her face for those watching from behind a one way window in the observation area, not that she would know what it was for.

She eyed the screen suspiciously as she sat down, noting that it bore her image as she turned to look at it. 'Am I really this fascinating?' she asked, turning back and flashing them a smirk.

'Actually...yes...yes you are,' Daniel nodded, trying his best to keep his expression and body language open, even though she gave him the creeps. He sat down opposite her as she eyed Sam again. There was something odd about the way she looked at her, as if she really were taking in her differences.

'So this planet...you went there for judgement?' he pressed.

She shook her head. 'No...I never truly believed it could happen when I went there. I thought it was a story to frighten those foolish enough to believe.'

'And now?'

Her dark eyes fixed on him. 'I will be more careful not to dismiss the beliefs of others in the future.'

He chuckled, nodding. 'Yes, that's probably wise. You see, I've made a career of studying the traditions and customs of people in our planet's history, and most beliefs have some element of truth in them.'

Her attention had drifted from him before he'd even finished his sentence, his attempts at conversation clearly boring her. He tried not to take offence.

'You say you think we met on this planet,' Sam interjected, taking up the baton. 'What was I doing there?'

That question apparently amused their guest. 'Are you worried you were some kind of criminal?'

Sam's smile was markedly tighter than usual. 'Well, the thought had crossed my mind.'

'You needn't worry, your record will be blemish free, I'm sure. You had personnel trapped there, you came through to help.'

'Help in what way?' Sam asked.

'You're an expert in the Ring of the Ancestors. The one on the planet wouldn't dial out so you came to help fix it.'

Beside him, Daniel heard her surprise in the way Sam drew breath. Whatever she might have overheard about the word Stargate, there was no way Sarayah could know that Sam was the foremost expert in 'gate technology without it having been discussed with her.

Despite her apparent growing discomfort with the situation, Sam asked her another question. 'Did I solve the problem?'

'Not that I'm aware of. Neither you nor Dr McKay could figure out a way to make it work while I was there...but then...' she looked down at her hand, 'then I woke in horrendous pain with no clue how I got to this land.'

She cast out the name so casually that Daniel almost missed the import, but she'd mentioned Rodney McKay, the bane of Sam's life, and self-professed genius. He exchanged a look with Sam, who had clearly noticed too. For now, neither of them chose to pursue the matter.

Instead, Daniel flipped open the file on Sarayah, careful not to show the photographs of her injury. 'Apparently, when you were picked up, you said, "See? I wasn't judged. I am still here." Does that mean anything to you?'

She frowned, clearly trying to recall. Then she nodded. 'The light...he summoned the Divine One and it consumed me...but I survived.'

'I'm sorry...who summoned the Divine One?'

'John Sheppard.'

'And what is 'The Divine One'?

She rolled her eyes as if she thought he should be keeping up far better than he was. 'The one who sits in judgement on the planet we were trapped on. A powerful energy being who will either take your life or spare it –'

'And so because you survived, you feel you weren't judged,' Daniel finished for her.

Sarayah just nodded.

He flipped on a little further to more conversations medical staff had made written records of. 'So, you're from somewhere called Medulsa. Where is that...exactly?'

'You've not heard of it?' She narrowed her eyes at him. 'Surely Col...Major Carter told you of my homeworld.'

'It must have slipped her mind,' he smiled. 'Why don't you tell me about it?'

Her expression changed at that point. 'I don't know you well enough to share that kind of information. You might use it against me.'

'Is there some reason we should want to do that?' Sam asked, picking up on the insinuation that she had reason to fear some kind of reprisal. 'We have nothing against you or your people...do we?'

The next change in Sarayah's expression was hard to read at first, but suddenly she looked, just for the briefest of moments, a tiny bit afraid.

'What trick are you trying to pull here?' she asked, what tiny scrap of warmth she may have exuded now entirely disappearing from her manner. 'You know all you need to know about me.'

'Actually, we know very little...that's why we want to talk to you.'

'I've already said more than enough,' she snapped, folding her arms and glaring at them. 'If you need to know any more about me, ask John Sheppard. He knows me _very_ well.'

'And exactly how well do you know him?' Carter asked, her tone also losing its friendly edge now.

'Well enough for him to do this,' Sarayah spat, holding up her handless arm. 'And I demand recompense before I say anything else.'

And that was her final comment, no matter how many more questions they put to her. In the end, at 2030 hours, they brought the interview to a close and escorted her to her quarters, where she would remain until they tried again.

'So, what now?' Daniel asked as they headed away from her guarded room.

'Now we get clearance to find this John Sheppard and we bring him in. If Sarayah is so sure he knows her, it might be worth finding out if she's right.'

oooOOOooo

Sheppard woke to the sound of curtains drawing back and the shock of sunlight hitting him straight in the eyes. He was still slouched on the sofa where he'd fallen asleep the previous evening, feet propped on the coffee table, but now with a blanket draped over him. He didn't recall the blanket...that was definitely new. He blinked against the brilliance of the morning until he brought the silhouetted figure in front of the window into focus.

Nancy looked troubled as she gazed down at him, not even a flicker of a smile on her face. 'I told you not to wait up for me.'

Not the morning welcome he'd been hoping for, but at least she'd given him the blanket. He stretched out his stiff neck with a groan, setting his feet on the floor and scooting forward to straighten out the kinks in his back. 'I didn't. I just fell asleep watching TV.'

'And reading my recipe book,' she said in a slightly accusatory way, as if she'd caught him reading her diary.

He looked down at the book, which had fallen into his lap as he'd sat up straight. 'Well, Grant stopped by to give it back to you. He says thanks, by the way.'

Her face flushed and she played with her hair in a worrying way, looking at just about anything in the room other than him.

'I didn't know you were into cookery,' he added, trying to keep the conversation alive.

She shrugged as if it were a minor thing. 'No, well, it's a recent realisation,' she told him. 'It helped me pass the evenings when I was worrying about whether you were dead or not.'

And so it began to go downhill. 'Nancy –'

'You want some breakfast? I made pancakes.'

She strode out of the room and after a few seconds wondering where all that had come from he followed her out, sitting down at the granite breakfast bar while she busied herself at the hob.

She set a plate piled high with pancakes in front of him along with a jug of maple syrup. That was followed by a mug of steaming hot, strong coffee. 'There you go.'

'Thanks.'

She sat down opposite him with a small bowl of Special K and a glass of orange juice, along with a pile of papers, presumably work related.

'That all you're having? You can share my pancakes,' he offered.

She raised her large brown eyes to his, and smiled for the first time. 'Thanks, but not all of us are blessed with metabolisms as fast as the jet planes you fly.'

He paused as she returned her attention to her reading, wondering whether he should correct her. Then, remembering how he'd felt finding out she had a hobby he had no idea about, he decided he should. 'I'm flying helicopters at the moment...moving troops and supplies, evacuating the injured, that kind of thing.'

Her beautiful brown eyes met and held his again, a hint of surprise on her face. 'Really? I...I'm sorry...I had no idea. You...you must have seen some terrible things.'

He could see something there in her eyes, a pain, a yearning of some kind, and he realised she wanted him to open up to her, to share a piece of himself that was real and raw.

As always, he simply looked away and shrugged. 'You get used to it,' he lied, not wishing to sully her mind with the true horrors he'd witnessed.

He heard her sigh and she went back to reading again.

The silence that followed weighed heavily between them, as did his guilt for letting her down when she'd offered to listen. But the things he'd seen weren't meant to be shared with people like Nancy. Bubbly, intelligent, beautiful, Nancy. He could smell her perfume, her shampoo and even the natural scent of her skin from that distance, and she was wearing a dress that hugged in all the right places. Right at that moment he could have grabbed hold of her and kissed her in the hope it would melt all this ice between them, but he wasn't sure it would be welcome any more. 'You look nice,' he blurted out, trying to move things in another direction.

'Thanks. I'm picking Mom up in an hour. We're having a girly day in the city...getting our hair done, having lunch, then a shopping spree.'

'Today?' His stomach sank. Since he'd got back at six yesterday evening they'd spent a sum total of ten minutes together and now she was talking about going out without him.

'Well, I'm sorry, John, but I made these plans weeks ago. It's not like you run to an exact schedule. I've known you be over a week late home before, with little more than a text at the last minute to tell me you've been delayed. How was I supposed to know you'd make it back on time?' She looked as upset as he felt, but although the right thing would have been to accept she was right, he couldn't just let it go.

'Couldn't you postpone it and go next week?'

She stared at him, her eyes glistening. 'It's her birthday, John. I guess you've forgotten that.'

Crap. Yes he had. It wasn't like his in-laws' birthdays had been a high priority while flying for his life or for the lives of others. Could she not understand that? Could she not even begin to comprehend the kinds of things he was up against on a daily basis out there? No...of course she couldn't...because he never told her anything.

'I'm sorry...I did forget. Wish her a happy birthday from me.'

'Yeah...I will.'

She got on with eating while reading, and he picked at his pancakes, looking at her soft brown waves and flawless complexion and realising how much he'd missed seeing her every day. Sadly, he didn't get the impression she felt the same. She'd barely looked at him when not so many years ago she would have had trouble keeping her hands off him the moment he set foot through the door. Their relationship was dying because he'd neglected her through no choice of his own. While he sank deeper into his own sense of misery his mind wandered to Grant. The man's behaviour when he'd seen him standing at the door and not Nancy had been awkward to say the least, and that handshake, as if trying to usurp Sheppard in his own territory, had been far firmer than the situation had required. Plus Grant and Nancy had talked about food...maybe they'd even tried out some of those recipes together. Food was kind of intimate when you really thought about it, something that not only sustained life, but also celebrated great moments in life – birthdays, holidays, romantic dates...and of course he wasn't the only man in the world who would think of Nancy as desirable. Every man in his right mind would see her that way, and now she wasn't as besotted with him as she'd once been, it might be possible for one of those many potential admirers to catch her eye.

He was losing her... to a man who liked baking...

'Why don't I go through that recipe book of yours and pick something to cook us for dinner tonight?' he suggested, trying to take an interest in her, trying to make a connection.

Nancy just shook her head. 'No...not when I'm having lunch out. I'll just have a fruit salad or some soup when I get back.'

'I think you could eat two big meals in one day without worrying, honey –'

'I said no...thank you.'

He dropped the subject, knowing her tone meant pressing for more would only make things worse. Perhaps a day alone to gather his thoughts would be a good thing; maybe later he'd be able to find some way to talk to her that actually meant something rather than a bunch of words thrown together to fill the silence.

'Maybe tomorrow,' he said more quietly, and she just nodded without comment.

Once her breakfast was finished she made an excuse to leave the kitchen to get ready, although she looked like she'd already done everything other than grab a jacket and her bag. He wanted to follow her upstairs to try to apologise for...for something...for anything that might make her look at him the way she used to, but he was too proud to do that. Even though he knew it was his job and his hang-ups that were coming between them, he also knew there was no way he could change those things. They were what made him who he was; he couldn't apologise for that.

He headed over to the window and looked out on his street, watching a couple of kids skateboarding past, and another one delivering the morning papers on his bike. A couple of years back he'd wanted to do the whole kids thing with Nancy. Now he couldn't help but feel glad they'd decided against it.

Over in his house, Grant was also looking out of his window. As soon as he noticed Sheppard had spotted him he made a big deal of messing around with his curtains to cover the fact he'd been watching their home, or more precisely, looking for Nancy. Sheppard's thoughts slipped to wondering if their relationship had already gone beyond the sharing recipes stage...

'Right, I'm gonna head out,' Nancy announced, walking into the lounge without him even having heard her descend the stairs.

He spun round. 'Already?'

'Yeah, well, I just remembered I need to fill the tank so I ought to go now.' She bustled across the room and reached up to plant a brisk kiss on his cheek. 'I'll see you later. Try to get some more rest; you look exhausted.'

He nodded and followed her out, standing on the doorstep as she headed out toward her car. It occurred to him then that she hadn't even asked if he would like to join her. Shouldn't she at least have offered him that chance?

A black car with dark windows pulled up at the end of their driveway. Nancy stopped next to her car and stared at it, clearly just as surprised as he was.

A man about the same age as him in dress uniform jumped out of the back. 'Major Sheppard?'

'That's right,' Sheppard replied, watching as the man took that as an invitation to approach.

'Good morning.' He dipped his head at Nancy. 'Ma'am.'

She gave him a tight smile, but John could see she wasn't happy.

'Major Sheppard, I'm sorry to bother you. I'm Major Davis of the United States Air Force and I've been asked to pick you up.'

Sheppard frowned. The guy looked trustworthy enough – you could usually tell from peoples' eyes, and he had honest eyes. But why would anyone want Davis to pick him up?

'What's this about?' Nancy asked, momentarily forgetting her journey and walking over toward them.

The man stopped half way up their path and waited for her to join him before replying. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Sheppard, but I can't disclose any details. All I can say is there was an incident in Afghanistan and your husband's name came up during the investigation. We just need him to answer a few questions.'

'Am I in trouble?' Sheppard asked, wracking his brain for anything he might have done wrong.

Davis shook his head. 'No, it's nothing like that, Major. We really do just need you to clear a few things up for us.' He gestured toward the car. 'If you'd like to join me I'll explain what I can on the way to the airport.'

'Ok...can I at least ask where you're taking him? Nancy demanded.

That was one question the major was apparently allowed to answer. 'Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Base. Don't worry, ma'am. We should have him back to you in a few days.'

That polite response did little to placate Nancy's mounting agitation. 'A few days! John, what did you do?' she gasped, her gaze little short of accusatory.

'Nothing!' Sheppard turned to Major Davis, exasperated. 'Major, I only just got home last night. Are you sure this can't wait?'

To his credit, the man had the decency to look apologetic. 'I'm sorry, but I'm acting under instruction from the president himself. You should probably pack a few things.'

The president? What the hell had he got himself into? 'I haven't even had chance to unpack!'

'Not a problem, Major,' Major Davis said with a smile. 'If you grab your kit bag we'll make sure it's laundered at the facility.'

Apparently, there was no getting out of this. Sheppard looked at Nancy, her expression a mingling of disappointment and anger. 'I'm sorry –'

'Don't worry, I'm used to it,' she choked, fighting back tears. 'And it's not like you can say no to the president.'

'Nancy!'

'Just go, John. I'll see you when you get back.'

She strode away again, jumping into her car and backing out of the driveway without another look in his direction.

Major Davis gave him a sympathetic smile. 'I take it this is a bad time?'

'No worse than any other,' Sheppard muttered, watching her car turn the corner at the end of the street. 'I'll go get my stuff.'

Yesterday, he'd thought things were a little too ordered and quiet for him. It seemed all that might be about to change.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Once again, thanks for all the reviews alerts and favourites so far. They're very much appreciated and welcomed. :) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 **

Though Sheppard enjoyed the flight to Colorado, he would have enjoyed it even more if he'd been allowed to pilot the plane himself. He'd never flown a C-12 Huron, so he'd headed up to the cockpit to take a look at the systems, his fingers itching to take the controls, but he hadn't asked to try it out. He was distracted, and that was never the best frame of mind in which to take a flight. So he'd satisfied himself with a quick chat with the pilots, then returned to his seat, answering a few questions about his time out in Afghanistan from Major Davis, then falling into a contemplative silence for the remainder of the journey to Peterson.

They arrived at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex via the North Portal. Sheppard had never been there before, but knew the place housed the Space Control Centre and was also an operations centre gathering data on missiles via satellites, radar and other sensors thus giving real-time feedback to troops during wartime. The place was well ensconced in the mountain, and his understanding was it went deep into the ground, making it virtually invulnerable to aerial attack, even from a nuclear assault.

Major Davis led him in and took him into an elevator, starting them on their downward journey. When the car eventually jolted to a halt, the doors open to reveal a rotund man with a bald head and a lieutenant general's stars on his epaulettes waiting for them.

'Good morning, Major Sheppard. I'm General Hammond. Welcome to Cheyenne Mountain.'

Sheppard immediately saluted him, but the general gave him a friendly smile. 'At ease, son. There's no need to stand on ceremony. Now, if you'll follow me.'

Sheppard carried his kitbag down the maze of long, grey, fluorescently lit corridors, feeling immediately intimidated by the lack of daylight and exits. He supposed that was why he liked flying so much. It was hard to feel trapped when shooting through a vast expanse of sky at speeds of over two hundred miles an hour, depending on the craft. This place felt more like a submarine than anything he was used to, and he couldn't imagine spending his career trapped in one of those tin cans. He took a few deep breaths and told himself to get a grip. All he had to do was answer a few questions, maybe have an overnight stay, then he'd be out of there and back out into the daylight he missed so much already.

First, he was shown to a small room with a bunk and all the essentials, where he was told to leave his bag. The grey walls sapped what thrill of excitement the journey had ignited in him, the standard military furnishings so far from where he'd been hoping to spend his rest months he suddenly missed the relative pristine luxury of his home.

Eventually they came to a halt outside the door of another room and when the SF standing guard outside the door opened it, Sheppard could see it had been set up with recording equipment. A tall, slim blonde woman he figured was about his age straightened up from adjusting the camera and strode toward him, extending her hand. 'Major Sheppard. I'm Major Samantha Carter.'

'Pleased to meet you,' he replied politely, shaking her hand though he wasn't sure if that was actually true yet.

Sheppard noticed the smell of coffee brewing, gratefully spying a large pot percolating on a table to the left of the room. Apparently noticing the direction in which his eyes had wandered, Carter offered him a cup, which he instantly accepted. Feeling the way he did, he could have happily drained the pot.

She set it down in front of the seat they intended him to sit in, the one in front of the camera, of course, then sat down on the opposite side of the table where three chairs awaited occupants. 'I'm sorry we had to bring you all this way when you just started your leave,' she smiled, her big blue eyes glinting with genuine kindness. 'Not exactly how you expected to spend the first day of your break, I'm sure.'

Hammond and Davis had helped themselves to drinks now too, and sat down with her as he answered.

'Well, I was told this was important. You're lucky I just finished my tour.'

'We are. It would've been a much tougher trip to pick you up if you hadn't,' Major Davis quipped, sipping from his cup.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows. They'd been prepared to come out to Afghanistan to find him? That sounded serious. 'I guess whatever it is I'm here to answer questions about is pretty important.'

'It is,' the general confirmed. 'And if it's okay with you, we'd like to press ahead with some of those questions now.'

'Of course.' Sheppard's eyes drifted to the mirrored panels up near the top of the wall behind them. The ceiling in this room was tall, at least twice the height of the room he'd left his kit in. If he wasn't mistaken, he was being observed, hence the large screen behind him for the benefit of those too far away to see his expression clearly. Okay, that was fine. He had nothing to hide.

'We're here to discuss an incident you were involved with in Afghanistan a little under one month ago,' Hammond explained, opening a file he'd laid on the table in front of him. 'July 8th to be exact. I understand you piloted a casualty evacuation flight attending an RPG attack on a five car coalition convoy. Is that correct?'

'Yes it is, Sir.'

'You helped rescue a woman there. Do you recall her?'

In his mind's eye, Sheppard pictured pulling the woman's hair back from over her face and checking her breathing. 'Yes I do.'

'We've had cause to speak to this woman, and she has made a rather serious accusation against you.'

His heart skipped and his mouth dried. 'An accusation? What kind of accusation?' He couldn't think what she would accuse him of...he'd barely touched her, and she been unconscious most of the time he was with her.

'You remember she was gravely injured when taken aboard your helicopter?' Hammond slid some photographs across the table toward him, and he flicked through the images, some of her bruising, others of her damaged arm.

'I'm not likely to forget, Sir. I helped Captain Dhawan stabilise her for evacuation.'

'She says you took her hand.'

He thought back. Maybe he had held her hand to comfort her. When he raised his eyes to the general's he realised from the man's grave express that wasn't what he'd meant. 'What...? No...I didn't cut off her hand. I found her lying away from all the others on the far side of the vehicles and called for help...I didn't even have time to do it if I'd wanted to.'

The three officers looked back at him without reaction, just watching him...gauging him. He swallowed, his dry throat struggling to finish the action until he lubricated it with more coffee. He really wished it was a beer.

'Can you tell us exactly what you recall of the incident in your own words?' Major Carter asked him.

He nodded, figuring it couldn't hurt his cause. 'Uh, yeah. We received the call to help out with the casevac some time around 1300 hours on that day. We headed out with a medical team, had to avoid RPG fire en route, then set down at approximately twenty minutes later. There were several uninjured personnel already attending the injured, some walking wounded, so while the medics got to work, I decided to check the bodies for signs of life. The first few had clearly died from their injuries, but when I rounded the damaged vehicles at the front of the convoy I spotted a woman lying on the far side of them, away from all the other casualties, and I figured she'd been missed. So I checked her out and found she was still breathing, but bleeding heavily from an unidentified injury. That was when I called for help and Dhawan came over to treat her. He helped me roll her over and we realised her hand was missing.'

Hammond nodded, apparently accepting his explanation and moving things on. 'Did she react to you at all?'

'Well, for the most part she was unconscious, but she did wake just briefly when a second helicopter arrived. It was weird, she seemed angry, real angry, and she said something about not being judged that made no sense at all. Then she realised something was wrong with her arm and completely lost it. Dhawan had to give her a sedative.'

'Do you have any idea what she could have meant about being judged?' Carter asked him.

He had wondered about that a few times, but had never worked it out. He shook his head. 'No. I just figured she was delirious after the explosion.'

'Did she behave in a way that suggested she thought she knew you?' she followed up.

The question struck him as odd, but then when he thought about how angry she'd been when she'd looked at him, it had been almost as if she was reacting to some continuing argument, her use of the word 'See?' blurted out as if answering some challenge. 'Well...now you come to mention it, I suppose it did come across that way, but I sure as hell don't know her.'

'Are you absolutely certain of that?' Hammond pressed, his watery blue eyes drilling into him.

'Yes, Sir. Absolutely. I remember she caused a lot of confusion 'cos no one had seen her before, not even the other two injured marines we took on board the Black Hawk.'

'You saw how she was dressed, I take it? What did you make of that?' Major Davis asked him, and Hammond pushed a photograph of the shirt across the table to him.

He'd forgotten about the unusual clothing until today, but yes, it had struck him as weird at the time, though in the midst of the carnage and chaos figuring it out hadn't been his priority. 'To be honest, I didn't know what to make of it. I spotted she had an American flag on her sleeve, which was odd since everyone else in the convoy was Canadian, but we didn't really have time to give it much thought. She needed help, so we got her out of there.'

All three of them nodded. Then, the general threw him a curve ball. 'She says she knows you.'

He blinked back at the older man. 'Excuse me?'

'She says she knows you and the shirt she was wearing was yours.'

He looked at the photograph again, spotting not only the American flag this time, but another emblem on the left sleeve, not one he was familiar with. 'I don't know why she said that, cos' it isn't true.'

His audience each exchanged glances with one another, then Major Davis reached down for a briefcase he'd carried in with him. 'Major Sheppard, before we go any further with this interview, we're gonna need you to read and sign this non-disclosure form. We'll leave it with you for a while to give you time to digest it, then if you have any questions, we'll be happy to answer them for you.'

He watched them all rise and depart en-masse, then looked down at the photograph, the one of the shirt with the unusual emblem on it, the one that appeared to read 'ATLANTIS'. Maybe the navy had a new unit...some kind of undersea base...not that that in any way explained how that shirt had ended up being worn by a mystery woman in a mountainous region of Afghanistan, who now claimed it belonged to him.

He dropped it back down on the tabletop and pulled the file a little closer, flipping it open and starting to read, wondering what the hell he was about to get himself into.

oooOOOooo

O'Neill watched the young man reading the NDA, his attention focused on the form and the expectations it outlined. To his right, he heard the others join both him and Daniel, who had been watching the interview along with him through the one-way window.

'Seems genuine enough,' he commented, still watching Sheppard as he waded through the information they'd provided with the form.

'I agree,' the general replied. 'I don't think he has any previous knowledge of Sarayah or any of the information she has disclosed to us so far.'

'So, how are we going to get him to apologise for something he hasn't done?' Daniel asked. 'That's what she said she wanted, after all.'

'Actually she said she wanted "recompense",' O'Neill reminded him. 'That could mean any number of things. Sorry might not cut it.'

Though Daniel's more innocent mind had sought out the simplest solution, he himself had immediately thought she meant revenge. There was something about the woman that unsettled him. She was unnecessarily aggressive and overtly confident of herself, even in a world that was apparently completely unfamiliar to her. Anyone who didn't understand fear was dangerous as far as O'Neill was concerned. People who feared nothing would usually stop at nothing.

'Okay...well...whatever it is she wants, this man doesn't owe her anything. Are we going to ask him to grovel to her just so she starts talking?' Daniel asked.

'I expect if we explain the situation to him, Major Sheppard might be willing to oblige,' Major Davis replied, matter-of-fact. 'After all, we have an alien woman in custody, who has arrived on our planet via means other than the Stargate. It's a matter of global security that we get whatever information from her we can.'

Daniel looked genuinely perplexed. 'So no one else has a problem with the ethics of this situation?'

'Well, I can see your point...'Major Davis began.

'We need to find whatever backdoor she slipped in through, Daniel. If we don't, we could soon be up to our asses in aliens,' O'Neill pointed out, plunging his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his boots.

In the room below, Sheppard rested his head in his hand and continued to read, looking bored. O'Neill understood that feeling. Many was the time he'd had a hellishly long mission only to find he had some vital paperwork to process at the end of it. The poor guy looked exhausted, and government documents were hard to decipher even after five extra strong coffees. He knew – he'd tried it. That said, he didn't have the smarts this guy apparently had, so maybe that would get him through.

'When I picked him up he and his wife...well, I got the impression things weren't as happy as they could have been. I think the sooner we can get him in there to play his part and get her talking and he can get home, the better,' Davis informed them.

'Poor guy,' Sam sighed. 'This really isn't what he needs.'

'And we're going to kick him while he's down by asking him to suck up to some woman he hasn't even wronged,' Daniel added, peering at O'Neill over his specs.

'Thank you for reminding us of that again, Daniel. I think we've all got that now,' he grouched back at him.

'He's signing it,' Davis announced, and they all watched as Sheppard signed the form and sat back, straightening out the pile of photographs and forms and then finishing up his drink.

'Time to give him the talk, Sir?' O'Neill asked the general.

'I believe it is,' Hammond agreed, and he and the two majors departed to return to Sheppard.

Daniel stepped up beside O'Neill, folding his arms as he looked down at the man now draining his mug of coffee.

'Poor guy. He has no idea his life is about to change forever, has he?'

Sheppard stretched out his legs and stifled a yawn, clearly ready for some rest. 'Nope...but we've all been there, Daniel. I think he can handle this,' O'Neill told him.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard drew his legs back in to his own side of the table when the others returned, but was waved down before he could begin to stand.

General Hammond sat down flanked by the two majors again. He melded his hands together on the table before him and gave Sheppard an earnest look. 'You understand that by signing that document what we now disclose to you is highly classified and cannot be discussed with anyone else without the highest level of security clearance.'

'I do,' he nodded. He wasn't new to the whole non-disclosure scenario, nor to keeping secrets. The state of his marriage was testament to that.

Hammond took a deep breath before beginning again. 'The woman you rescued is apparently called Sarayah, though we can't confirm that. We've tried to trace her, but have found no record of anyone meeting her description with that name anywhere. Of course, a second name would help, but she doesn't have one. Apparently, people from her homeworld of Medulsa don't have one.'

He continued to talk, but Sheppard found his mind frozen on the words "homeworld" and "Medulsa". He'd never heard of Medulsa, and his geography was pretty hot. 'Wait...just a minute there, Sir. Homeworld?'

The general took another deep breath, as if he was used to this kind of reaction and knew what lay ahead. 'That's right, son. Sarayah claims to be from another planet.'

Sheppard sputtered out a laugh. 'So, first she claims to know me and that I cut off her hand, then she tells you she's from another planet. I think the RPG attack scrambled her brains. She obviously needs psychological help.'

It came as a surprise that no one agreed with him. 'There are some things you need to understand about this facility before we go any further with this,' Hammond began, his expression remaining totally solemn. 'The floors above us house NORAD and all its various operations, but down here is an operation I oversee called Stargate Command.'

Sheppard tried to think if he'd ever heard of it before. He hadn't, but the name suggested something space related. 'Is that some kind of anti-missile defence system? Like Star Wars?'

'Maybe I should leave the explanation up to you, Major Carter,' Hammond suggested, deferring to the woman beside him.

'Thank you, General.' She placed a thick file down on the table, one that bore the letters SGC on an emblem that in some details reminded him of the one he'd seen on the photograph of the shirt. 'Stargate Command is a top-secret United States Air Force military organization tasked with operating the Stargate device and all matters pertaining to things off-world, including threats to Earth or missions to procure new technologies from alien civilizations.'

Sheppard turned over the first few pages, scanning the information and catching sight of a picture of a huge circular monument. Off-world...? Alien...? He tried to concentrate, but this already sounded beyond ridiculous.

'Stargate Command acts as the main base for Stargate operations. It's commanded by General Hammond and is staffed by a large team of subject matter experts and military support personnel. The primary function of the base is to secure the Stargate and protect the Earth from any possible incursions via that device or other means. Simultaneously, it exists to coordinate exploration and diplomatic relationships through the Stargate, carried out by Stargate teams, the mission of which is to procure technology that can be used to defend Earth and make off-world allies to assist in the fight against the various dangerous races we've encountered.'

Various dangerous races? So these people weren't just claiming first contact with this Sarayah woman, but with...what..dozens, hundreds, thousands of aliens?

'The Alpha Gate, originally found in 1928 in Giza, Egypt, was stored in various locations before it was installed here in the Cheyenne Mountain facility. While the Stargate has been previously studied, no one was able to make it reliably function until a colleague of ours, Dr Daniel Jackson, was introduced to Project Giza, predecessor to Stargate Command in the mid 1990s. Dr Jackson figured out that the various symbols around the circumference of the Stargate were actually representations of constellations rather than hieroglyphs, and the device could dial another Stargate by locking seven of its chevrons onto these symbols, almost like a combination lock on a safe. You can see them depicted in the diagrams on page five. This "dialling" activates a wormhole between the dialler's Stargate and one of thousands of other Stargates across the cosmos, allowing for near-instantaneous travel to other planets.'

That "fact" proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back. 'Okay!' Sheppard interrupted, pushing his seat back and standing. 'I don't know what this is all about, but I just got back from a six month tour of duty in the worst hellhole you can imagine. I'm physically and mentally exhausted, I've been accused of assaulting a woman I risked my life to rescue, and now you're telling me you have a 'gate through which you can travel to other civilisations and vice versa. Now, I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humour, but this is going beyond a joke. I don't know who put you guys up to this, but my marriage is on the rocks, so if you don't mind, I'd like to get home to my wife before she serves me with divorce papers!'

The three officers calmly watched him, not reacting to his freak out. Suddenly, he felt rather self-conscious. 'No disrespect intended, Sir,' he added, worried that his outburst had just landed him in a whole heap of trouble.

'I'm not in the habit of carrying out elaborate hoaxes, Major Sheppard,' the general assured him. 'Certainly not regarding matters of global security. So why don't you sit down, and let the major finish explaining things?'

He nodded sheepishly and retook his seat, picking up the file and trying to take it all in as Carter continued to explain the theory behind the technology, how it could be affected by solar bursts and that sometimes they had also encountered devices that caused rifts in the space time continuum and so they were able to meet with species from alternate universes, sometimes alternate versions of themselves. His head now spinning from the sheer volume of new information, Sheppard pinched the bridge of his nose and tried hard to stay focused. He was a smart guy...he should be able to get this stuff. But he was just so tired...

Around five minutes later, the door opened and a tall grey-haired man stepped inside. 'Mind if I interrupt, General?'

'Go ahead, Colonel,' the general replied, although Sheppard couldn't help but notice that Carter didn't look too happy to be stopped in her tracks.

'I was just thinking this was a classic case where showing not telling might work wonders,' the man said, giving Sheppard a brisk smile. 'If you want to understand what we do here, Major Sheppard, follow me.'

Checking for Hammond's approval first, which he got via a single dip of the older man's head, Sheppard picked up the file and took it with him as he followed the colonel out of the door.

'So you're...?'

'Colonel Jack O'Neill,' the man snapped, though Sheppard go the impression that was his general tone of voice rather than any particular irritation with the question. 'Thought you looked like you needed rescuing.'

'Thanks, I was kinda drowning in that tidal wave of information.'

'Yeah? Well now you know how I feel...I have to work with her every day.'

Sheppard tried not to laugh, conscious of the fact Major Carter was not that far behind them. O'Neill kept up an impressive pace until they reached the elevator, then had to hold the door for General Hammond who wasn't quite so nimble on his feet. Sheppard noted that the colonel punched in floor twenty-eight, and the elevator began to journey down even deeper into the ground. He'd had no idea the facility burrowed so far underground.

The elevator doors opened up onto yet another grey corridor with fluorescent lighting, and the colonel set off at a pace again, reaching a set of thick blast doors where he dug a swipe card out of his pocket, and ran it through a locking device. The doors pulled back to reveal the room lying beyond them.

Sheppard instantly noticed several marines posted around the periphery, all armed and wearing protective gear, as if expecting some form of attack. A huge windowed balcony area revealed various staff busy in their work at computers, calculating or monitoring whatever it was they calculated and monitored up there...if they did that at all. It was just an assumption on his part really.

And at the centre of the room, sitting on a raised plinth with a long metal ramp leading up to it was what they had called the Stargate, a huge and imposing ring of...he realised he couldn't tell whether it was stone or some kind of metal from that distance.

'So, what d'ya think?' O'Neill asked, folding his arms and gazing up at the huge structure with a smug smile.

'It's big,' was all Sheppard could think to say in return. 'And round...'

A young man in glasses and carrying a notebook jogged in at that point. He bustled up to Sheppard and extended his hand. 'Hello, Major Sheppard. I'm Daniel Jackson.'

Sheppard immediately recalled the name. 'The Dr Jackson who deciphered the markings on this...Stargate?'

'Oh, yes. You had the talk already?' he said, half-apologetically.

'Carter's almost fried the poor guy's brain. I hope you're not planning on doing the same,' the colonel grunted, but it was again clear it was more of a friendly jibe than a serious complaint.

'I just thought John might be interested in seeing the various constellations the symbols on the gate relate to,' Daniel explained. 'You don't mind if I call you John, do you?'

'Well, it's my name,' Sheppard replied, Daniel already heading toward the ramp and gesturing for him to follow.

He followed the scientist up to the 'gate, reaching out to feel it and finding it cold to the touch. It appeared to be a type of metal, clearly very strong because despite the age Carter's rambling explanation had dated it at, its exterior surfaces were unblemished. Daniel pointed out the various symbols and showed him the constellations they related to, jotted down in his book with the slightly loose leaves and the battered spine. He'd obviously looked at the things many, many times, perhaps it was one of his most useful sources of reference, and the occasional piece of tape holding the pages in place showed how determined he was to maintain it in its current order.

Sheppard's attention wandered to the great ring in front of them while Daniel told him about someone called Catherine who had believed in him when he'd almost been laughed out of every scientific facility in the country for his theory that the advances of the Ancient Egyptians may have been augmented by the presence of aliens on Earth. He could well believe that, he felt like laughing himself at the insanity of all this. But these people were all here for some reason. Maybe Jackson was telling the truth.

In the next moment, part of the Stargate began to turn, and a voice announced, 'Off-world activation,' through the communication system. Something shaped like the emblems he'd seen on the folders he'd been handed jerked and appeared to lock one of the symbols in place as the wheel turned again, and the same voice boomed out, 'Chevron one encoded.'

He felt Daniel's hand on his elbow. 'We're gonna need to move for this,' he told him, steering him back down the ramp, while the soldiers around the room aimed their weapons at the spinning circle. Sheppard watched with fascination as each chevron made the same action and captured a symbol until eventually the man in the balcony told them, 'Chevron seven locked.'

A huge rush of sound and light made Sheppard almost jump out of his skin, shielding his eyes against the intensity of the light that seemed to engulf the 'gate for just a second of explosive action.

'Close the iris,' he heard Hammond's distinctive Texan drawl order and he ventured a look as numerous metal segments unfurled themselves from the circle and overlapped the centre of the Stargate before he could get a proper look at what was going on.

The same voice he'd heard throughout the process now spoke up again. 'Receiving SG-3's IDC.'

'Open the iris,' the general immediately responded.

The iris drew back, revealing what appeared to be a vertical pool of shimmering water, the surface full of ripples and undulations, yet it didn't spill out into the room. It made no sense to him, but there was an even greater surprise to come when four men dressed in combat fatigues strolled through, apparently not wet at all.

A few seconds later, the pool disappeared in an instant, making him start again. 'This is crazy!' he breathed, shaking his head.

'A lot to take in, isn't it?' O'Neill quipped, ambling over to join him. 'But now you know what all the fuss is about.'

Sheppard nodded, gaping open-mouthed at the now inanimate 'gate. 'They just appeared out of nowhere!'

'Not nowhere. They came from M2G 988 through a wormhole connecting two Stargates,' Carter reiterated.

'Right,' he nodded, though it was hard to wrap his head around.

'Tell him about the apple and the worm,' O'Neill suggested.

Carter smiled patiently. 'You've read his file, Colonel. He's a smart guy. I don't need to tell him about the apple and the worm.'

O'Neill immediately faked indignation. 'Am I to assume you don't think the same of me since you felt the need to explain the apple and the worm for my benefit?'

'Oh, you're smart, Sir. You're just smart at different things,' she said quickly, in an effort to placate him.

The colonel eyed her suspiciously, clearly doubting her word. 'So, Sheppard,' he barked, turning abruptly in his direction. 'Fancy a trip?'

His heart skipping a beat, Sheppard asked, 'Through that?'

'No...I hear Long Island is nice this time of year,' the colonel quipped, frowning at him. 'Yes, through that.'

'Might I suggest you leave that for another day,' Major Davis interrupted at that point, much to Sheppard's relief. 'The major's been travelling for the better part of sixty hours now. I imagine he might be ready for some rest.'

With everyone else now looking at him he had to confess that was true. 'To be honest, I am kinda tired...and hungry.'

'Ah, now hungry we can help you with,' O'Neill smiled, patting him firmly on the shoulder. 'Why don't we show you to the mess? Today's special is steak with a pepper corn sauce.'

'Sounds like a plan, Sir,' Sheppard grinned back at him, letting him lead the way.

oooOOOooo

Standing outside Sarayah's quarters that evening, Daniel took a deep breath before nodding to the SFs posted outside her door. The one on the right knocked once, then swiped the lock, opening the door for him and granting him entry.

Before he even stepped inside Daniel could see Sarayah sitting bolt upright on the end of her bed. The pose was rigid and unnatural, not to mention disturbing. He hesitated, but Jack had asked him to prepare Sarayah for the meeting that lay ahead tomorrow rather than dropping it on her with no notice in the morning, and much as the woman disconcerted him, he had to agree it seemed the best thing to do.

'Hi, Sarayah. How're you feeling?' he asked, finally plucking up the courage to step into her room.

She raised her eyes to his now, anger still burning bright in them. 'How am I supposed to feel? My situation hasn't changed.'

Daniel looked back at the SF who still held the door handle and signalled that it was okay for him to leave. In all honesty, he didn't enjoy being alone with Sarayah, but if he wanted to garner her trust, he needed to show he trusted her.

'No, well...to be honest with you, the interview earlier didn't do a lot to assist your cause. If you want our help, you're going to have to be more...'

'Compliant?' she asked, the fingers of her left hand tightly gripping the blankets on her bed.

'Agreeable,' he finished, worried by her choice of word to finish his sentence. 'Sarayah, we're not trying to interrogate you here, we just need answers to certain questions if you want us to help you find your way home.'

She huffed, rolling her eyes to the ceiling then looking away, a sure sign she still wasn't in the mood to talk.

'I have some news,' he forged on, trying to keep communication going. 'We found John Sheppard. You're gonna meet with him tomorrow.'

Her reaction was instant and startling. She was on her feet and in his face in a blur of unexpected activity. 'John Sheppard? He's here?'

'I don't want you concerning yourself over this,' Daniel said softly, laying his hand on her shoulder. 'I know you're probably afraid to see him after all that's happened to you, but no harm can come to you here. There are guards on your door –'

She rolled her shoulder back, rebuffing his comforting touch. 'I don't need your placations, Dr Jackson, I just want an answer. Is he here?'

Sarayah looked at him with such intensity that he felt like banging on the door to be released, but he kept his cool and gave her a nod. 'Yes, he's here. But he has no idea where you are so you don't have to worry about that.'

She arched an eyebrow, then looked out the window of the door and along the corridor as far as she could see. 'I'm surprised he's willing to come here and face me.'

'Well, try not to get too worked up about that. You're still officially in recovery and we don't want you getting overwrought.'

'Recovery?' she sneered, backing away and returning to her position on the end of her bed now. 'I'm not likely to recover from this, am I?' She lay her stump in her lap and glared at him. 'Unless you know of some type of miraculous medicine I haven't heard of yet.'

'Uh, no...no...we're good, but we're not that good,' he admitted. Sensing he'd done as much good as he could, he ade his excuses to leave. 'Well, I just wanted to let you know what was going on so you can prepare yourself for tomorrow. If you're okay I should probably head out and get some more work done before turning in myself.'

'I'm fine,' she insisted, staring at the wall opposite her as if he no longer existed within the confines of that room.

'Right...' he drawled, backing up to the door. 'So, I'll see you in the morning.'

She didn't reply.

'Of course,' he muttered, knocking on the door to let the guards know he'd finished. They let him out and he exited with an immense sense of relief. He didn't know what it was about Sarayah, but she gave him the creeps whenever he was near her. He'd actually gone in there thinking he was doing her a favour, but now he was left feeling she hadn't needed his support at all.

Tomorrow's meeting promised to be one uncomfortable reunion. He suspected he was going to need all his powers of persuasion to convince Sarayah they were really all on her side.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay...I know...you want them to meet already! It's coming in the next chapter, I promise. Thanks again to everyone reviewing. It's always good to hear your thoughts.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 **

Later that evening, Carter showed Sheppard back to his room. He wandered into the cold, basic, almost cell-like dwelling, and picked up his kit, opening it up to sort through the contents. As he did so, sand spilled out onto the floor. He looked up, giving her a sheepish smile. 'I didn't have time to do anything with this stuff before Major Davis came calling.'

She smiled back at him, again almost apologetic. 'Don't worry about it. If you pull out what you need, I'll make sure the rest gets laundered for you.'

'Thanks...that would be good.'

'And the locker rooms are on this level. When you're ready to get cleaned up just ask anyone and they'll point you in the right direction.'

'Okay.'

He surreptitiously wrapped his dirty underwear inside other clothes as he threw what needed to be cleaned in one pile, and what was wearable in another. Other things, like his reading matter and Sudoku puzzle books he tossed onto his nightstand, where he noticed someone had already put the SGC information file and a notepad and paper.

'Oh, I thought I'd leave you with the file, but don't feel like you have to read it all tonight,' she told him, picking up one of his puzzle books and flicking through the pages. 'And the notepad's there just in case you have any questions.'

'Not sure I'd understand the answers even if you gave me them,' he quipped, finally finding the games console and power adapter he'd been rooting around for.

Sam waved the advanced Sudoku book at him. 'I've seen your qualifications, John. You're smart enough to get the gist of things.'

'If you say so.'

'Well,' she announced, replacing the book on the pile with the others. 'I'd better let you get settled in. I'll send someone by to pick up your laundry in a little while.'

He nodded. 'Thanks.' As she turned to leave, he called after her. 'Samantha?'

'Make that Sam and I might just answer,' she smirked back at him.

'Okay...Sam,' he agreed, appreciating the friendly jibe. 'What exactly am I doing here?'

This time, Sam's smile was a little more strained, and she shook her head. 'We're not sure yet, but since Sarayah named you prominently in the various statements taken from her, we have to investigate. If it's any consolation, she says she's met me before, too...that the two of us worked together in a place called Atlantis.'

'Like on the patch?'

'Yeah.' Carter wrapped her arms around herself as if even talking about it unsettled her. 'It may be that she's met an AU version of the two of us, and she's mistaking us for them. She said I looked different.'

'So it's possible the AU version of me cut her hand off?'

Sam screwed up her nose at the suggestion. 'Well, we can't rule it out.'

'Doesn't sound like me,' he muttered, looking around at the mess he'd created and wishing he'd been more organised about packing it all in the first place.

'Well, AU versions of us are formed by their own set of personal experiences...and they may not have lived the same type of life you have.'

He shrugged. 'I guess not.'

'Well, I'm gonna give you some space now,' she told him, thumbing toward the door. 'If there's anything else you want, just ask.'

'I will. Thanks, Sam.'

'You're welcome.'

Once the door was closed, he sat down on the edge of the coarse green-blanketed mattress and looked around at his things scattered about him. He pondered then what kind of a man he actually was – the son of a rich man whose anger and sense of rebellion had driven him to eke out a career in the military. If he was honest, if pushed hard enough, he knew he probably could do what that woman had accused him of, because deep inside a monster lurked, one that could kill without compunction, one that feared very little. That was what made him good at what he did. But the thought that other "hims" were out there, multiple versions of himself perhaps all capable of such cold and calculated violence sent a shudder right through him. So he pulled out his games console and lost himself in a few levels of Super Mario, if only to block those thoughts out for a little while. That way, he might just stand a chance of getting some of that sleep he so desperately needed.

oooOOOooo

The following morning, Sheppard found himself on an observation balcony gazing down at an attractive brunette through a one-way window, while Daniel and Colonel O'Neill had a heated discussion several yards away. So this was the woman whose life he'd saved a few weeks ago? He hadn't really noticed how pretty she was at the time; he'd been too caught up in the adrenalin of the moment and the horror of the carnage he supposed.

Sam stood beside him in silence, then gently nudged him with her elbow. 'I bet you hardly recognise her compared with how she looked when you picked her up.'

'I barely had time to look at her,' he replied. 'We had to fix her up pretty quick before she bled to death.'

Sam nodded, glancing past him at her two colleagues. Then, looking embarrassed, she kept him talking, no doubt trying to distract him from the disagreement. 'She's a fascinating woman...or at least she was until she went quiet on us.'

Sheppard arched an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?'

'She's refusing to answer any more questions. We think it's just beginning to dawn on her that she's not on the planet she thought she was and she's feeling a little...vulnerable.'

Sheppard looked down at the woman. The set of her jaw and the hardness in her eyes didn't suggest she felt vulnerable at all. She looked strong, despite her obvious disability, the arm sporting a dressing to hide the damage, and her posture spoke of someone completely at ease with their current situation, if a little annoyed.

'Does she know she's meeting me today?' he asked.

'Yes. We figured just letting you walk in there might be...tricky, so she's been forewarned.'

He nodded, wondering why this Sarayah didn't feel as anxious as he did about this reunion. She supposedly thought he'd attacked her and cut off her hand. He couldn't help feeling that in her position he wouldn't be sitting there battling to keep the smirk from his face.

'Okay, you ready?' Daniel was at his side now, running his hand back through his hair as if trying to regain his lost composure. Behind him, O'Neill stood rigid, arms folded in angry control, brow puckered into a frown.

'Sure. Whenever you are,' Sheppard told him, pretending not to notice the ongoing discord.

'Jack thinks it would be best if you were as nice as possible to Sarayah...get her onside, so to speak...maybe apologise,' Daniel added, scratching at the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed with colour.

Sheppard watched the pained expression build on Daniel's face, and realised this was most likely what the two men had been arguing about. He looked over at O'Neill, who jutted his jaw and tilted his head as if daring him to question it, but Sheppard had never let that kind of thing intimidate him before. 'Apologise? For what?'

'Well...she does think you cut her hand off,' Daniel pointed out, but Sheppard could tell his heart wasn't in the argument. Even Sam beside him seemed uncomfortable with the suggestion. And O'Neill...O'Neill was just getting the job done. They wanted information from her, so he was doing what it took to get it.

'But I didn't actually do it,' Sheppard pointed out.

'Maybe you could just say you're sorry she got hurt and you're glad to see her looking so much better,' Sam suggested. 'That's not admitting anything, but it might be enough to placate her.'

Sheppard blinked back at the major, his unwavering gaze apparently too much to hold as Carter looked down on the woman again. 'Placate her? So she's mad with me?'

'Well...a little...' Daniel admitted.

He'd been expecting her to be afraid of meeting him, not angry, but he supposed he understood. 'So I'm some kind of bait to get her talking?'

O'Neill strode over then, pushing himself in front of Daniel and explaining the situation so there could be no misunderstanding it. 'I'm gonna lay it out for you, Sheppard. We may have a breach in Earth's security, and if we do, she knows how it can be exploited. We need answers, and she says she's not talking until you give her some kind of recompense. So, yeah, we need you to suck it up for a while. But if you do this, she'll co-operate and you can go home and all this is behind you. So, how about it?'

'I'm not being accused of anything?' Sheppard clarified.

'Not a thing.'

Sheppard looked down at Sarayah again, the meeting now less appealing than it had been already. But if it was for world security, he could hardly refuse. 'Okay. I guess I can play nice for a while if it helps you guys out.'

'Right answer,' O'Neill replied, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. 'See, kids? I always find honesty's the best policy.'

Daniel and Sam looked suitably sheepish, the scientist jerking his head toward the door as a signal Sheppard should follow him. The look he threw O'Neill was far less friendly.

Outside the door to the room he'd been questioned in yesterday, Daniel paused and spoke to Sheppard. 'Now, I'm not exactly sure how she's going to react to you, so just stay calm and let me handle things until everything settles, okay?'

Though the idea that things would need to "settle" didn't fill him with any great hope for the task ahead, Sheppard nodded, and one of the two guards posted outside the room let them in. Two personnel who had been keeping an eye on Sarayah inside the room withdrew to the periphery as Daniel walked in, Sheppard sticking close behind him.

Sarayah's reaction to their entrance was immediate. She pushed up from her chair, sending it scraping back with a teeth-rattling screech across the polished concrete floor.

'Easy, Sarayah...' Daniel held up a hand as if trying to sooth a wild animal. Sheppard had seen the trainers on his father's ranch do the same thing with unbroken horses, an open palmed gesture that showed they meant no malice. 'No one here is going to hurt you. We're just here to talk. Sit down...please.'

Sheppard wasn't sure she'd even heard Daniel because her eyes were on him and him alone. But at some level the instruction eventually filtered through and she resumed her seat, inching it forward to its original position.

Daniel signalled for Sheppard to sit, which he did rather tentatively under her continued scrutiny. Then Daniel himself took the seat beside him and started the ball rolling. 'So, Sarayah,' he began, flashing her a tight grin. 'As you can see, we've brought John here to talk with you to see if we can't help you figure out exactly what happened to you.'

'He took my hand...I already told you that,' she growled, eyes burning with the same intense rage Sheppard had seen when she'd awoken in Afghanistan. Time apparently wasn't a great healer in her case, but he supposed three weeks wasn't all that long when you were getting over a severed hand.

'I'm glad to see you looking so much better,' he said, giving her his best smile in the hope of smoothing things over enough for them to get talking.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Why?'

That wasn't a question he'd been expecting. 'I...' He looked at Daniel, who raised his eyebrows and gave an almost imperceptible nod to urge him on. 'Because I wasn't sure you were going to make it when we picked you up,' he ventured.

Her jaw visibly tightened, her left hand, which was resting on the table, curling into a fist.

'Before we start, why don't I get everyone a drink?' Daniel suggested, hopping up and over to the percolator to pour three cups of strong coffee. Sheppard felt ready for the caffeine boost, though he wasn't sure Sarayah needed one. She looked ready to pounce without it. He swallowed far more audibly than he'd intended to, while she just continued to pin him with a psychotic stare.

Once he'd finished playing mother, Daniel sat down and opened his file. 'So, Sarayah. Why don't you begin by telling us what you _do_ recall about how you ended up in Afghanistan...again?' he coaxed, clicking the nib out on his pen in hopeful anticipation.

For the first time, she shifted her focus from Sheppard to Daniel, glaring her disgust. 'You think that because you get this man to come here and say a few pleasant words that this is all the recompense I need?' she snorted, folding her arms now, tucking her stump under her left arm as if to hide her deficiency.

It didn't take an expert in body language, or an anthropologist, to realise that was an attempt to erect a barrier. Sheppard looked to Daniel for guidance.

'Well, I'm sure John felt he had good reason for what he did at the time. Perhaps if you gave us your version of events he would be able to understand why you feel so aggrieved.'

Sarayah just arched an eyebrow.

'Look, I'm sorry about what happened with your hand,' John added, hoping a direct apology might just get things moving.

Her eyes slowly slid in his direction. 'Are you? Are you really?'

Sheppard already had his own ideas about this woman and how she'd lost a hand, although how she had got exactly where they'd found her wasn't so easy to explain away. And for some reason he'd imprinted on her...the first person she'd seen after the massive trauma of her amputation and getting caught up in the explosion. But he'd been given his orders; play along to get her talking. So he would do just that, and then he could go home.

'Yes, I am.'

She drew her arm out and held it before him, slamming her elbow down on the tabletop. 'This hand? This hand that I raised in anger against you? You forgive me for what I did and apologise for taking it?'

Though he wanted to say 'What?' he nodded. He had no idea what she was talking about, but he figured she was unlikely to want to hear that right now.

She narrowed her eyes again, then leaned back, hiding her damaged limb from view once more. 'So is this where you work now, John? Such a dreary little place. It's a mud-hole compared to Atlantis,' she sneered, glaring at him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Daniel scribble a note in his book. 'What do you remember about Atlantis?' he asked her.

'It's the great city of the Ancestors, brought to life by John and his friends. My people had thought it lost, but they found it and returned it to glory.'

John sensed a shift in Daniel at those words. His calmness evaporated, replaced by a type of giddiness he normally observed in games geeks when they manage to get their sweaty paws on the latest hot game. 'A lost city? And these Ancestors...they're the same people who built the,' Daniel flipped back through notes he'd already jotted down prior to the meeting, 'Ring of the Ancestors?'

'Of course,' she replied, giving him a look that suggested she thought him an idiot. Then her eyes were back on Sheppard. He squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable with the intensity of her scrutiny.

'So, this "Atlantis",' Daniel probed, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. 'It's very different to the SGC?'

The slightest of smiles curled her lips now, and she actually gave Sheppard a once over. He tried to explain it away to himself, but there was no denying she'd been checking him out. He picked up his coffee to cover his embarrassment, her eyes following his every movement. 'I wasn't exactly given a guided tour,' she quipped. 'And since he's the military commander of the place, why don't you ask him?'

Almost choking on his drink, Sheppard quickly fought to bring his coughing fit under control, wiping a dribble of coffee from the corner of his mouth. Military commander? Him? He looked to Daniel for a way out of that one.

Daniel, however, was just as surprised as he was. 'He is? I mean, yes we know he is, but John...had an accident recently and can't remember how to get back there. We thought the two of you might be able to help each other out.'

That had to be the lamest lie he'd ever heard, and Sheppard found himself wanting to apologise for that, too. This woman was sharp, he could see that...feel it even. She wasn't going to fall for that crap.

'You look different,' she suddenly announced, completely changing the track of their conversation.

Again Sheppard didn't really know how to respond to that, but he figured he could probably do better than Daniel's last attempt. 'Maybe it's the civvies,' he offered. Since his uniform was still being laundered, he'd had to dress in the clothes he'd arrived in, a light blue cotton shirt and Levis, not BDUs like she and Daniel both wore.

She frowned, clearly not understanding the terminology.

'I'm not in uniform,' he clarified, putting it in language she would understand.

She shook her head, her eyes roving all over him again. 'That's not it.' Unexpectedly, she stood up and reached across the table, grabbing hold of his chin and turning his face to the light.

'Sarayah, please don't do that...' Daniel intervened on his behalf, but she didn't listen, grasping him like that until she'd seen what she thought she needed to see.

Sheppard watched her eyes roam all over his face, finding himself now the one treating her like an untamed beast, sitting very still so as not to antagonise her. Eventually she released her grip, only to catch his shirtfront and tug it, sending his top three buttons flying.

'Hey, that's enough,' Daniel told her, forcing her back. She relented, slumping back into her seat.

'This is not the John Sheppard I know. He doesn't even bear the scars of his encounter with the Wraith. This is nothing but a weak, boyish imitation pretending to be the man. The real John Sheppard would never apologise to me.' Once again, her expression twisted into a leering grin. 'Yet...perhaps in time I could make you like him again.'

Sheppard clasped his shirt shut with one hand and pushed back from the table. 'Yeah, well if that John Sheppard is the kind of man who'll take one of your hands just to keep them off him, maybe you'd better not try.'

His retort seemed to fire her up even more. 'What would you know, whelp? You're not fit to even speak of him,' she hissed.

'What are you talking about? I _am _him,' he yelled. 'This is insane, Daniel. She has no intention of telling you anything useful. She's just wants to wind me up.'

'If you want to know what I know, get down and kiss my feet,' she sneered, a ferocious grin splitting her face.

Buttons successfully pushed, Sheppard had had his fill. 'That's it. I've had enough of this...I'm out of here,' he told Daniel, who made no attempt to stop him as he rose.

But before he could leave, Sarayah leapt at him over the table, sending him and the chair behind him flying and smacking his head hard on the concrete floor. Through his pounding daze, he heard her say, 'You don't ever walk away from me until I say so. Do you understand, pretty one?'

Even as she said it, the two guards were dragging her off him, and then Daniel was crouched at his side, brow puckered with concern, hand resting on his chest to restrain him. 'John! Lay still!' Then he yelled, 'We need a medical team down here, NOW!'

The call made Sheppard's brain throb one more gut-churningly painful time, then everything went black.

oooOOOooo

Janet seemed to flinch along with him as she dabbed clean the cut on the back of Sheppard's head so she could take a better look. He hissed as the liquid on her swab seared in the angry wound, even though she told him she was being as gentle as she could. At least the scan she'd carried out had shown no fracture; from the size of the lump raised by his collision with the floor, he was surprised things weren't worse. Though, she apparently still couldn't rule out a concussion just yet.

He'd joked about having a hard head and she'd laughed along with him, a little too loudly for his current tender condition. It hadn't been that funny, but it was always nice to have someone appreciate his humour.

'All right, I'm going to inject a local anaesthetic around the injury site, then we can get you stitched up,' she warned him, lifting his hand up to hold a lint pad in place over the injury for her while she gathered together what she needed. She loaded up her syringe, and he tried not to think about how much that was going to hurt.

'So, what did you do to get her so mad?' she asked casually, smirking as she checked the flow from the needle.

He huffed a laugh, his chin still resting on his chest where she's left him. 'Apparently, I'm not quite 'John Sheppard' enough for her.' Then he followed it up by muttering, 'Story of my life.'

'Oh, I'm sure that's not true,' she smiled, heading back over to him. 'You look plenty good enough to me.'

So the CMO wasn't above a little flirtation, he realised, just as she pushed in the needle and almost had to peel him off the ceiling.

'That's the worst part over,' she assured him, letting her hand rest lightly in his shoulder. 'The pain should be all gone in a few minutes.'

'I feel really bad about this,' Daniel piped up from his position leaning against the base wall units in the treatment area. 'I really had no idea she would react so aggressively to you.'

'No, well psychos have a knack of behaving unpredictably,' he informed the archaeologist, right before a wave of nausea hit him out of nowhere, and Janet helpfully provide a tub for him to puke in.

'Sorry,' he gasped as one of the nearby nurses helpfully took that bowl away and provided him with an empty one in case of a repeat performance. 'That kinda snuck up on me.'

'Well, I'm afraid that confirms what I suspected,' Janet told him, lifting his hand up and pressing it down on a lint pad again. He could just about feel a dull pressure, but that was all, and it was a relief to have the thumping sensation deadened for a while. 'You have a concussion. That's twenty four hours of observation for you, my boy.'

'Great, I guess that means I'm not going home just yet,' he sighed.

'I guess not,' Daniel kind of grimaced, giving Sheppard the impression that had been in question anyway.

'Okay, I'm going to start stitching now so hold still,' Janet warned him, moving his hand aside, and again he felt an odd sensation of pushing and pulling, but no pain. The thought of what she was doing left him feeling a little queasy though, and he clutched the fresh bowl she'd given him to his chest in case he needed it in a hurry.

'Well, that could've gone better,' he heard O'Neill bark, watching his boots and those of Carter arrive in front of him as he kept his head bowed. He heard the older man hiss through his teeth and figured his head didn't look too good, his stomach doing another queasy flip at the thought of it.

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'I tried doing the whole apology thing but...'

'Yeah I know. You don't have to feel bad, Sheppard. You did what we asked,' the colonel assured him.

'Well, I could have reacted better when she started goading me,' he pointed out, peeking out from under his messy locks, made more so by congealed blood and iodine.

He saw O'Neill shrug. 'If she'd called me a whelp and asked me to kiss her feet, I'd have probably reacted a lot worse than you did,' he confessed.

'I suppose this means my coming here was a waste of time?' he asked, but Carter shook her head.

'Not entirely, from what she's said to me previously, and from your conversation with her earlier, we can now assume that she's from the future rather than an alternate universe.'

'Unless she's from a future alternate universe,' Sheppard offered up, immediately spotting the other option.

'Unless that, yes,' she nodded, looking a little sick herself now. 'Thanks for the extra headache of adding that into my calculations.'

'Like you said, he's smart,' Janet quipped from behind him as he heard her snip the first stitch. His stomach lurched, but he managed to contain it this time.

'Ok, well whichever possibility it is, the chances are a Stargate was involved in transporting her here. I've been studying deep space telemetry of the day she "appeared", and I did find one anomalous event resembling that of the activation of a wormhole.'

'But I thought we had the only active Stargate on Earth right here,' Daniel interrupted.

'We do,' Carter replied, 'which is why this is so worrying. The other weird thing is the "activation", if that's what it was, took place at almost the exact same location and moment of the RPG attack you picked her up from. The first RPG hit and a moment later there was a brief energy spike resembling that of our own Stargate.'

'Resembling?' O'Neill asked, raising an eyebrow. 'How closely?'

Sam waggled her head a little as she appeared to read off imaginary stats hovering in the air in front of her. 'Well, the spike was much higher than we might expect, but since we think she's travelled in time, that's probably because the 'gate and subsequently the wormhole absorbed a lot of excess energy from a solar flare. But even so, I have to admit the power readings were still a little...unusual.'

'Define unusual,' O'Neill demanded.

'Not normal, common, or ordinary,' she told him, helpfully.

O'Neill just blinked at her. 'Is that a little geek humour, Major?'

She bowed her head as if embarrassed. 'Yes, Sir.'

'You might wanna work on that.'

'Can I make a suggestion?' Sheppard asked, stopping them mid-banter.

'You think you can improve her delivery?' O'Neill asked, a twinkle in his dark eyes.

'I meant about what may have happened with Sarayah,' Sheppard clarified, refusing to laugh while still being stitched.

'Ah! In that case, go ahead.'

'The severing of the right hand is classic Taliban punishment. Perhaps she was an informant...hence the US military shirt, or maybe she was mistaken for one because she stupidly chose to wear it, so they cut off her hand and then dumped her in the middle of nowhere as punishment to let Allah decide her fate. And maybe all this "I know you" crap is just a figment of a tormented mind trying to come to terms with a reality she can't deal with.'

'But what about the power spike...and the fact she knew about the Stargate?' Carter pressed.

He shrugged as Janet snipped another stitch and reminded him to keep still. 'Maybe there was something unusual about the way the vehicle exploded after the impact of the RPG...I don't know...but it has to be more plausible than a wormhole opening up in the middle of nowhere. As for how she knew about the Stargate...can you completely rule out the chance she might have overheard someone talking around this place?'

'She mentioned it before she even came here,' Carter explained, but O'Neill corrected her.

'No, she mentioned a Ring of the Ancestors, we kind of pushed her into the Stargate thing, which she may have overheard if someone got sloppy...so no, we can't completely rule it out.'

'But what about the emblem on that shirt?' Daniel threw in. 'Anyone can see it's derived from the one we have here at the SGC. She couldn't have just plucked that out of thin air and coincidentally got it right.'

And that made O'Neill waver again, 'Well, there is that.'

'Much as I hate to admit it...we may have to bring in help with this,' Carter admitted.

'From who?' Daniel asked.

'That's from whom?' O'Neill corrected, much to Daniel's obvious annoyance.

'I was thinking...maybe...McKay.'

'Really?' both Jack and Daniel asked simultaneously, giving Sheppard the impression this McKay guy wasn't high on their list of people to invite to the party.

At that moment, possibly one of the biggest men Sheppard had ever seen arrived in the infirmary treatment room, clasped his hands behind his back and dipped his head respectfully toward Sheppard before speaking.

'O'Neill, Sarayah is calm and willing to speak with you now.'

'Oh, right. This should be fun,' O'Neill smirked, clapping his hands and rubbing them together gleefully. 'Lead the way, Teal'c.'

They left just as Janet snipped the last suture and told Sheppard he was free to move again. 'Is he...?'

'Yes, he is,' Daniel replied.

'How do you know what I was going to ask?'

'Well, I could only think of two questions you were likely to ask; the first being is he really as big as you thought, the second being is he an alien. The answer's yes to both.'

'Oh, okay.'

'Right,' Janet interrupted, 'Much as I would love to let you all continue to chat, I have one air force major with concussion to keep under observation. So, if you don't mind...'

Janet gestured toward the door, and Carter and Daniel made themselves scarce, saying they would come back to see how he was later.

'Right, let's get you out of those clothes,' Janet announced, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. 'And into some scrubs,' she added, her face flushing with colour as she led him out of the treatment room and out onto the ward.

'And there was I thinking my luck was in,' he smirked, causing an increase in her blushing. Then he started to sway and she was forced to hold him up, severely hindering his attempted show of machismo.

oooOOOooo

Sarayah watched the older man and his bodyguard enter the room, drumming a button on the table. She'd collected it from the floor, along with the other two she'd torn from Sheppard's shirt, which she had secreted into various pockets of her borrowed BDUswhen they'd locked her in there alone for a while to wait for someone to turn up and tell her what a bad girl she'd been. He introduced himself as Colonel Jack O'Neill, his silent companion only as Teal'c. She'd seen this colonel around the base before, but so far, he'd not addressed her directly, only stood by as she'd been moved from one room to another around the base, but she could tell he didn't like or trust he - he made no attempt to hide the fact.

The man regarded her for a few seconds, then pulled out a chair and sat down, the other one, the one with the impressive muscles and the unusual head decoration, remained standing behind him, expressionless. He was far harder to gauge.

'Feel better now you've got that out of your system?' the colonel asked, faking a smile.

'Much better, thank you,' was her measured response.

Unimpressed, he squinted back at her. 'So was that why you wanted us to get Sheppard here? Revenge for whatever he's supposed to have done to you.'

She shrugged, deciding it might be better not to answer that one. Something odd was going on on this planet, and she hadn't quite figured out what it was yet. It felt safer to keep some secrets to herself for now.

'Not very smart considering we're just tryin' to help ya,' O'Neill pressed.

She set the button down and swept her hair forward over her left shoulder, toying with it. 'I think both you and I know I'm not here so you can help me, Colonel O'Neill. This is about what I can do for you.'

His gaze hardened. 'Don't flatter yourself.'

She smiled, certain she was right, twirling a lock of her long black hair around her forefinger and waiting for him to speak again.

'You know, you carry on behaving that way, and you're gonna get yourself locked up in some mental institution,' the man challenged, as if he thought that would frighten her.

'No such institution would hold me, Colonel. They would soon realise I was as sane as you.'

He paused, sucking in his cheeks. 'That's not saying much.'

She smiled, appreciating his attempt at levity. She had a certain amount of patience for men who knew their limits. This one didn't give the impression of arrogantly believing himself smarter than she was. He did, however, hold a certain amount of sway in this facility. His rank told her that much. That meant he was someone she should learn to play, and though he might not be conventionally intelligent, he was certainly shrewd. 'I'm certain no one would accuse you of insanity, Jack.'

'That's Colonel O'Neill to you,' he instantly corrected, cutting her attempt to ingratiate herself to him short. 'Now, let's set a few ground rules; if you weren't here, we would be putting you into the local psych unit by now, so if you want to stay here and be treated with a little more dignity what happened today doesn't happen again. Understood?'

Sarayah knew her expression had darkened as he spoke, but since this man could undoubtedly make life very uncomfortable for her in this place, she nodded her agreement. 'I understand.'

'Good. Now you've had your recompense from Major Sheppard, just like you asked, so now we expect some answers. Where are you from?'

'I already told you the name of my planet.'

Now O'Neill's expression darkened too, and he leaned forward on the table. 'Humour me.'

'Medulsa,' she growled, angry that he dared try to intimidate her.

The colonel pulled some paper and a pen from his top pocket, placed them down on the table and pushed them toward her. 'Care to draw us some directions?'

She stared at him. 'You wish me to give you the symbols.'

'You wanna go home, right?'

She ran her tongue over her parched lips, the earlier excitement now leaving her suddenly thirsty. 'Could I have a drink first?'

'You stallin' for time?'

She smiled. He might put himself down, but this one was sharper than he pretended to be. 'No...I'm thirsty.'

O'Neill made a big show of getting out of the chair, crossing to the coffee, pouring her a cup, and then slamming it on the table in front of her, spilling some of it. 'Now, how about those symbols?'

She thought about refusal, but she owed nothing to the people of Medulsa. So what if she gave their position away to virtual strangers? They had first shunned her then imprisoned her, and befriended the peoples of Atlantis despite the way they had forced their values on her society...Sheppard's values. She didn't care if they came to any harm from this disclosure...Then, just as she was about to draw the symbols, she reconsidered. What if the Medulsans told this O'Neill she was dangerous? What if they lied about her treating Sheppard unfairly? They'd never seen things her way, always preferring to ally themselves with those who had taken over the Ancestors' home. But he'd deserved what she'd done, and more. He'd taken everything she'd ever cared about from her, and he still hadn't paid as far as she was concerned.

'Penny for 'em.'

She raised her eyes to O'Neill's. They were almost a reflection of hers, so dark, so angry. She suspected he could be volatile if pushed too hard, just as she was. 'What do you mean?'

'You were lost in thought...I was wonderin' what about.'

Her hand had grasped the button again, and was holding it so tightly her nails had almost drawn blood from her own palm. He'd noticed. He was looking at it.

She loosened off her hold, the button falling from her grip. O'Neill picked it up and popped it into his shirt pocket. 'Thanks for finding that. I'm sure Major Sheppard will be grateful, though he won't get to tell you that himself since he'll be going home just as soon as he's out of the infirmary.'

'He's most welcome,' she purred, her heartbeat quickening at the thought of losing track of him again. And then she was remembering the feeling of him beneath her in that room, his surprise, mingled with just a little fear. She'd missed his presence in these past few weeks, and although he looked and behaved differently, that outburst just before he'd tried to leave had convinced her he was very much the same man. The same yet different. Younger – not that that made any sense. But that was how Colonel Carter looked too, younger. ..both of them less experienced and sure of themselves. She'd always felt she and Sheppard were of a similar age, but now she felt she had the edge by some years. He reminded her of the man she'd first met on Medulsa, the one who had saved Balfor from beheading - the old man she'd choked the life out of because he wouldn't give her the code that would have allowed her through Atlantis' gate. But perhaps she'd been too harsh on him. Perhaps he'd done her a favour, saving her from her own over-zealousness. And oh, those precious tastes of small victories over Sheppard she'd gained as a result of her change of plan. She could still remember the sound of his arm breaking and his agonised screams...

She realised she'd allowed her mind to wander again, and now O'Neill looked angry. 'Those symbols, if you don't mind.'

'Why do you really want them?' she asked. 'I don't believe this is just about helping me find my way home.'

'Okay. You want the truth? Some of us aren't entirely convinced you're from another planet. Some of us think you're a little cuckoo...nuts...unstable...wacko, take your pick. If you give us the address of your home-world and we connect with it, we'll know you're telling the truth.'

Sarayah considered that. If she gave him an address it would gain their trust...but if she gave them the symbols for Medulsa, the villagers would turn them against her. So she did the next best thing; she wrote down the symbols for Atrasca, where she knew the Wraith had culled the population. No one there had survived to tell them what danger she might pose to them.

'Thank you,' the colonel growled, with the most forced smile she'd ever seen. 'You can go back to your room now. We'll let you know how we get on.'

'Can I at least finish my drink?'

Though he looked about to refuse, he surprised her. 'Sure. Why not?'

She drank her coffee slowly, making them all wait, a point she could see wasn't wasted on O'Neill. The big man, his friend, looked on impassively, his expression never changing, while O'Neill grew steadily more annoyed.

Eventually, his patience reached its limit. 'All right! I think that's enough caffeine for you for one day, young lady. Let's get you back to your room now.'

Teal'c, the silent one, walked around behind her chair, his build apparently intended to intimidate her into moving. She had no problem with that, and so rose from her seat without question and allowed O'Neill to lead the way back to her room.

Once there, the door was slammed and locked behind her, sealing her in until they saw fit to let her out again. She looked around at the dull and claustrophobic room and sighed. Much as she hated to admit it, she missed Medulsa, with its warm climate and all the rich colours of its landscape, some arable, some rocky and barren, but all beautiful in its own way. This place was soul destroying. No breeze, no natural light, everywhere enclosed and grey aside from a few soft furnishings and pictures in this supposedly inviting room – she had to wonder how anyone could work here each day of their lives and not lose their mind.

She crossed over to her bed and sat down, pulling the two shirt buttons from her pockets. She held them in her left palm, stroking them with her thumb. They weren't much, but it was something of Sheppard to keep close. If she could have kept the black shirt it would have been better. That would have been part of the real thing, because, as much as she'd seen this man was John Sheppard, he wasn't _her_ John Sheppard, the one she had changed and moulded and tormented until he'd been forced to...

No, nothing excused what he'd done. She hadn't forced him to do that. If he had just considered her viewpoint...realised the damage he had caused in her life and accepted responsibility...atoned...they could have reached some compromise. His screams echoed in her memory again, his body quivering and perspiring under her touch, and she longed to relive those moments. But they were gone...he was gone. Now, she'd been thrown into a strange world where Sheppard, so much younger, didn't even appear to know her or the relationship they'd had because it seemed it hadn't happened for him yet.

Which, of course, could play to her advantage. An idea began to form in her mind, an idea far better than mere atonement. If the Divine One had seen fit to send her back through time and space to meet him here on Earth, then perhaps she could stop Sheppard ever going to Atlantis. And if he never travelled to Atlantis, she would not lose her hand. The stump ached as if in agreement with her thoughts, and she rubbed it to relieve the pain. But to stop him making that journey, she had to get him away from these people...away from the Stargate...and right now, she was probably the last person he would want to allow anywhere near him. Still, he was a sucker for an underdog. A heart-felt apology, a few tears and stories of loneliness, confusion and poor treatment by the likes of O'Neill, and she might yet be able to win him over. And if she could trick him into helping her get away from this place, then she would make sure he never returned there.

Of course, to do any of that, she needed to see him again, and O'Neill had said he was leaving tomorrow. That was something she needed to change. This was a real chance to put things right in her life; she didn't intend to let it slip through her fingers, unlike the buttons, which now clattered on the floor, disturbing her thoughts. It wasn't like her to be so clumsy, but she was still getting used to using her left hand all the time. She bent forward to retrieve them, unable to grasp them, her fingers seeming to pass right over them as if she had misjudged the distance...again, not like her. When she tried one more time, she realised what was happening, what she had seen before, but her brain had tried to explain as a lack of co-ordination. Her fingers were falling apart. Not in any way that caused pain, it was almost as if every cell was pulling apart and then rejoining each time she tried to grip, and the more she panicked and grasped for those buttons the worse it got, until her whole hand faded up to her wrist joint before reforming.

Her screams were almost as loud then as they had been amongst the mountains of Afghanistan.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Dun dun duh!** **Thanks to those of you continuing to reading and especially those of you reviewing, too. It's always nice to get encouragement for my efforts. I hope you all enjoyed the update. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 **

Having just drifted off to sleep, Sheppard was rudely awakened by the arrival of a gurney and a decent sized medical team headed up by Dr Fraiser. At first, he couldn't fathom out what was happening, then he realised someone was struggling on that gurney and screaming hysterically, begging for someone to help her.

'Give her another 2 mgs of diazepam,' Fraiser ordered, taking control of the situation. Two orderlies held the woman on the gurney down, and it was only when Sheppard saw her toss her head and scream out for help again that he realised it was Sarayah. The nursing staff trying to hold her still to inject her were fighting a losing battle, so he threw aside his blankets and darted over to help out, pinning her left arm down while someone else held her right and someone else managed to fill a syringe with the necessary drugs.

Suddenly, her eyes locked onto his, melting from sheer panic into pleading in an instant. 'I can't lose another hand...please, John, help me! Get Dr McKay...he'll know what to do!'

He remembered hearing the name earlier when Sam had mentioned it, not that it had met with any enthusiasm from anyone else. 'Just let these people do their thing,' he told her, keeping his voice as even as he could. He'd helped with a few casevacs in his time in Afghanistan, there simply weren't enough medevac helicopters around to deal with all the problems on a bad day, and so he'd learned how shouting, even shouting instructions for treatment, made patients feel unsettled. What they needed was someone to tell them to stay calm and everything would be fine, even if it wasn't true.

From the corner of his eye, he saw the tip of a syringe penetrate the skin inside Sarayah's left elbow joint and the job was done, the drugs taking her off into oblivion.

Janet touched his arm, 'Thanks, but you really shouldn't be out of bed, Major.'

He shrugged, relinquishing his grip as the woman succumbed to the diazepam. 'Looked like you guys needed a hand. What happened?'

'We're not sure. Best guess is Sarayah's suffered some kind of breakdown. She's been incredibly strong through everything that's happened according to her records, and certainly since arriving here. I guess the trauma had to hit home some time.'

Sheppard understood that. After what he'd seen in his time on the front line, he felt like he constantly fought with the crazy man inside him demanding justice for all the wrong doing he'd seen. It wasn't nice watching someone else go through this when he'd felt so close to breaking himself sometimes. It was a reminder of how fragile the human mind could be, and how tenuous its grip on sanity was.

The nursing staff began adding restraints to Sarayah's bed, ensuring she couldn't do any harm to herself or anyone else when she next awoke, then Janet asked one of the nurses to look into arranging a psych evaluation.

'Now, young man, let's get you settled again.'

Though he hated to admit it, now that the excitement was over he did feel a little shaky. As he turned, he stumbled and Janet and another nurse caught him and helped him wobble his way back over to his bed.

'Whoa! I didn't realise how much that blow to the head had knocked me around,' he confessed, climbing back under his covers as the two women fussed over him.

'Well, that's the joy of adrenalin,' Janet told him. 'It keeps you going while you need to function, but it lets you down once the rush is over. Now you just stay right there and don't move again. You're not to try to help anyone else again tonight, okay?'

'Sorry...I just –'

'I get it, John,' she said earnestly. 'I really do. This place is full of men and women who have trained to help others. But there are times when you just have to hand that responsibility over to someone else...and this is one of those times. So, no more heroics, okay?'

He nodded and laid his head back on the pillows. 'Okay. If she goes psycho and starts tearing up the place, I won't move a muscle,' he smirked.

'Well, if she goes psycho you have my permission to move as many muscles as you want...in the opposite direction. With your concussion, you might prove more of a hindrance than a help!'

Though he hated to admit he wasn't up to par, he knew she had a point. 'She's not likely to go psycho though, right?' he clarified.

'Well, I never say never, but now she's been sedated and restrained we should be okay for a few hours. Besides, she'll have an armed guard posted around her bed so you can sleep soundly, Major. You're not getting murdered in your bed on my watch...although, I am heading off for bed myself now.'

'Well, I want you to know that if she does come after me with an axe, I don't want you to feel guilty,' he joked, squirming his way down under his covers.

'That's very chivalrous of you, Major,' she smiled. 'I'll see you in the morning.'

He closed his eyes and listened to her giving her staff instructions regarding Sarayah's care, and a very firm instruction that he wasn't to leave his bed for anything other than the call of nature. But the only thing calling him right then was sleep, and he soon succumbed to its gentle insistence, Sarayah's earlier cries for help echoing in his memory until he fully surrendered.

oooOOOooo

Morning seemed less than a blink after that, but when he checked his watch, Sheppard realised he'd slept for a little over eight hours straight. That was the best night's sleep he'd had in months. Pity it had taken a concussion to get it.

When he rubbed away his bleariness, he saw the curtains across the room around Sarayah's bed were drawn and he could hear her talking quite calmly to the nursing staff attending her. Though his curiosity made him want to get out of bed and go check on her, he remained in his own bay, respecting her privacy. It was hard to believe she was so reasonable this morning after the state she'd been in when brought in last night, but it definitely sounded like her voice speaking in muted tones. He strained to hear what she was saying, but it was just too quiet for him to make out.

'Good morning, Major Sheppard.' He started, not having heard the nurse with his breakfast tray arrive beside him. 'Do you think you could manage some food this morning?'

'Hell yes!' he told her, his stomach rumbling just at the prospect. Not that her tray carried anything exciting, just some toast and cereals along with a glass of orange juice, but it was better than enduring another moment of the emptiness aching in the pit of his stomach now. 'I take it things are a bit more settled over there this morning,' he commented as he took the tray and lay it on his lap.

'Yes, Sarayah's much better. I guess she just had an episode last night. We'll know more after her psych evaluation.'

He nodded and gave her a smile as she headed off, leaving him to his meal. One of the staff with Sarayah headed out and left the curtain ajar just a fraction, enough for him to see her through it. Her wrists were still restrained, and a nurse took her vitals and spoke to her in a soothing pitch, leaning over her and blocking his view of her face. He supposed she could have experienced some kind of waking nightmare last night, and had thought something terrible was happening to her that now, in the cold light of day, she could clearly comprehend as unreal. He'd heard of troops on the front doing that after a traumatic event, their minds struggling to differentiate between dream and reality for a while because the things they'd witnessed were so far beyond what their imaginations had prepared them for. It made sense that she might experience the same thing after losing her hand in such a violent way.

The nurse moved aside and Sarayah's eyes instantly fixed on his, as if she'd sensed him watching her. He averted his gaze back to his breakfast, his face flushing with embarrassment that he'd been caught taking an interest in her. He didn't look her way again.

When Dr Fraiser arrived to do her rounds, he was relieved to have the distraction of someone to talk to.

'Good morning, Major. And how are we feeling this morning?'

'I'm good. Real good. Any chance I could get out of here before my twenty-four hours are up?'

'You dislike my company that much?' she asked, feigning hurt feelings.

'Of course not, but since I did what was asked of me, I figure I can get back home today if you give me the all clear.'

He noticed she suddenly stopped looking at him and picked up his chart, scanning the information it contained from overnight checks. 'Well, why don't we see how that breakfast sits for a while, then we'll talk about letting you out of here.'

His heart sank, but he forced on a smile. 'Okay. I guess I can wait a while longer.'

'Well, if you're sure you're feeling all right, I ought to go check on our other patient. I see she didn't kill you in your bed, so I'm assuming all went well last night.'

'Apparently so.' He ventured a look Sarayah's way now and found her eyes still on him, but moments later, Janet adjusted the curtains surrounding her bed, blocking her view. He thought about her, about the way she'd spoken to him yesterday, and how calm and rational she sounded now. He supposed it was possible she was simply traumatised by her experiences, that she'd been verging on her temporary breakdown when she'd attacked him...but whatever her story, he really didn't think his being there was helping her to open up to O'Neill's team. The sooner he got home to Nancy and sorted things out with her, the better for everyone.

oooOOOooo

Later that morning, Sarayah was escorted to the interview room, where she was once again seated before recording equipment, this time across the table from an unfamiliar face. Though they were alone, the man, who introduced himself as Dr Jefferies, made it perfectly clear that there were two armed marines outside the door and he would not hesitate to call for help if she were to become violent.

Containing her desire to sneer at his cowardice, Sarayah simply muttered her understanding, along with an apology for her behaviour the previous day, words that almost stuck in her throat, but which she knew were necessary if she wanted to convince these people to allow her a certain amount of freedom and further contact with Sheppard. Her clash with him yesterday had worked in two ways, reminding her of everything that had drawn her to him in the first place – his looks, his spirit and his defiance – as well as somehow deadening her wish to do him life-threatening harm. This Sheppard, Major Sheppard, just as he had been when she first met him, had no idea who she was nor any clue of their history. She could begin again with a clean slate, lure him in to her trust and lull him with false assurances, perhaps at last finding that way to break down his defences and get truly under his skin. And if she managed to befriend him, she could lure him away from his future roll at the helm of Atlantis and the part he played in her permanent disfigurement.

'So, how are you feeling this morning, Sarayah?' Dr Jefferies enquired, clicking out the nib out of his ball point pen and scribbling something onto his notepad.

She watched his pen move across the page, the sound of it scratching across his paper notepad grating on her nerves, then lifted her eyes to his when he looked at her. 'Very well, thank you.'

Jefferies peered at her, his expression unchanging. 'I understand you were admitted to the infirmary in quite a state yesterday evening. Can you tell me about that?'

This was where she needed to be cautious. She had to sound plausible in her excuses or they would know she was lying, but she also had to give a good enough reason to validate her terror. 'I had a nightmare...I must have had trouble waking up from it.'

'You claimed your hand had...disappeared,' the doctor reminded her, his gaze drifting to her right arm as if he felt embarrassed to say the words.

'An understandable fear, as I'm sure you'll agree,' she said, playing on that uncertainty.

He didn't comment either way. 'Yesterday, you assaulted a man. Can you tell me why?'

Now this was the point at which she knew she would need to tread especially carefully. Her reactions regarding Sheppard were always her weakness, her obsession with him bringing out the worst in her. 'To be honest, I don't really know why I did it. Since I awoke to the sight of his face in Afghanistan I have been having trouble separating him out from the pain and the distress I suffered. But I had time to think about him last night, and I realise now he isn't capable of the things I've accused him of. I fully intend to apologise to him the next time I see him.'

'I see...' he nodded, noting that down. 'But you've been certain he was involved in your injury since your rescue. What's made you change your mind?'

'I suppose it was meeting him face to face again. It was blatantly obvious he had no idea who I was or what had happened to me prior to that incident, so he can't possibly be responsible.'

'And yet you attacked him.'

Sarayah tried to keep the glare from her expression as Dr Jefferies examined her on that point again. It seemed he didn't trust her, but if she stuck to her story, he would have no reason not to. 'I was confused... I didn't know what I was doing or saying. Seeing him there right in front of me yesterday caught me off guard...' He still wasn't looking convinced, so she changed her tack. 'Have you ever suffered a serious injury, Dr Jefferies?' she asked, resting her right arm on the table.

It took a moment or two for him to drag his eyes away from the dressing on her amputation. 'Uh...no...no I haven't.'

'Perhaps a traumatic event?'

He shook his head. 'No.'

'Then I doubt I can convey just how disjointed my thinking has been of late. With so many lost memories, I've had difficulty making sense of anything. Now I find that the man I thought did all this to me isn't that man at all. I shouldn't have lashed out the way I did, but I was frightened to have what I thought was the truth pulled out from under me. I'm truly sorry for any injury caused to Major Sheppard. I'd like an opportunity to tell him that...if possible.'

'Well, that's not up to me,' the doctor told her, noting down her comments again. 'You'll have to ask General Hammond for permission.'

'I rarely see the general. I doubt he has time to waste on someone as trivial as me,' she replied, affecting humility as best she could. It really wasn't her forte, but she hoped she'd pulled it off.

'So, has this latest incident helped you to remember any more about how you came to be in the incident in Afghanistan?' Jefferies asked, moving on without even reacting to her reply.

She shook her head. 'No...I'm afraid not. Although I think if I could talk to Major Sheppard again he might be able to help me understand.'

He ignored that final comment. 'The people also involved in the incident...those who survived...say they have no idea who you are. Did you cause the explosion, Sarayah?'

She stared at him, and the man stared back at her, his expression just as blank and inscrutable as ever. 'You really think I'm capable of such a thing?'

'We know very little about you, certainly not enough to make that judgement. We're just looking for an honest reply.'

She narrowed her eyes, thinking she suddenly saw his meaning. 'You think of me as an enemy?'

Jefferies cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the accusation she'd levelled at him. 'I didn't say that. I just asked you if you caused the explosion.'

So much for starting over. These people didn't trust her any more than Sheppard and his team had when she'd last encountered them. But she wouldn't be held responsible for carnage she hadn't caused. 'I didn't hurt those people,' she assured him. 'I may not know how I ended up amongst them, but I'm sure of that much.'

He watched her, gauging her for a second or two longer, then scribbled something else in his notebook. The fact he kept his thoughts to himself infuriated her, but she resisted the urge to tear the pages from his book and forcibly feed them to him. Who did this man think he was, judging her? What gave him the right? What gave any of these people the right? There was only one person who truly understood her, and he wasn't here, just some younger, less jaded counterpart with only a scrap of his spirit.

'Before you came here, you spoke of your memories of another world...of encountering people there who claimed to have no prior knowledge of you. Do you still feel that to be true?'

She shrugged and painted on a smile. 'I believe so, but I'm not sure of anything anymore. Maybe they were just delusions...like my nightmare...though they seemed very real.'

More writing, and still no comment either way. She felt like shaking the man by the neck until he confessed what he thought of her, and she could still do it, minus one hand or not. Realising her manner might not be conducive to engendering the trust she sought, she adopted a more tentative tone. 'Am I going to be punished for a crime I did not commit? Is this your justice?' she asked feigning fear as best she could since it was an emotion almost entirely alien to her.

'I'm sorry, I can't answer that question,' Dr Jefferies said again, like some kind of automaton. He scribbled a few more words before shutting his pad and leaning fully back in his seat to regard her. 'I think that's enough for our first session, Sarayah. Thank you for your time.'

He got out of his seat and headed for the door, wrapping on it sharply, just once, to let the marines outside know he was done. They marched into the room as he left and asked her to depart with them, which she duly did without argument. From now on, she realised, it might be prudent to be less...confrontational. That way she might gain more access to a certain young major she hoped to get to know a little better. She had a feeling he might be easier to manipulate than his older equivalent. Perhaps revenge would be hers yet.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard sat in the conference room, listening to General Hammond giving them feedback from Sarayah's psychiatric assessment, which had taken place earlier that morning. After eating his breakfast and not repainting the floor with it, Dr Fraiser had released him to his quarters, where he had been quickly invited by Daniel to attend the feedback from Sarayah's conversation with Dr Jefferies. From what the general was saying, she'd said all the right things, but Sheppard just couldn't shake the feeling that her words hid a whole different level of intent she was keeping concealed from them.

O'Neill sat opposite him, his chin propped in his hand, forefinger tapping his temple, looking thoroughly bored and unimpressed. As General Hammond wound up his report, the colonel gave a deep sigh, and quipped, 'Well, I don't know about you kids, but this sudden change of heart has me convinced.'

'Don't worry, Colonel, Dr Jefferies wasn't entirely swayed by her performance either,' Hammond assured him. 'In his opinion, Sarayah is a highly intelligent individual, able to quickly weigh up any given situation and behave appropriately. His assessment is that she's a sociopath, capable of saying or doing anything to get the desired result.'

'Which is?' O'Neill asked.

'That's something we don't know yet,' Hammond confessed.

Sam glanced Sheppard's way, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. 'So she could be lying about having no involvement with the explosion?'

'Actually, that was the one thing Dr Jefferies felt she was being honest about when he questioned her. That and the fact she's met some of you before,' Hammond explained.

'Well, considering she knew our names before being introduced to either myself or Major Sheppard, I'm pretty sure she's telling the truth about that,' Sam told him, picking up her mug of coffee and nursing it without actually drinking it.

Janet spoke up now, joining in the assessment. 'So, if she's a sociopath, and I would have to say that does seem likely from this change in behaviour, that makes her potentially dangerous.'

'Considering her violent reaction to Major Sheppard yesterday, that's obviously a distinct possibility,' Hammond agreed. 'Dr Jeffries says she should be treated with caution for the time being at least, no matter how sorry she claims to be. She may be telling the truth about not knowing how she got to Afghanistan, but I still get the impression she's holding back on something. So for now we're none the wiser as to how Sarayah got here or what her previous connection to the Stargate is. Any thoughts?'

'There's something I've been thinking about after talking to her yesterday,' Daniel piped up. 'I would have pushed her on it then, but we got somewhat sidetracked when she attacked Major Sheppard. She mentioned a lost city...and I was wondering if it could be the Lost City of the Ancients we're looking for.'

'The one with all the super advanced weapons?' O'Neill asked, perking up and suddenly giving him his undivided attention.

'Yes...that one,' Daniel drawled, obviously not happy that that particular feature appeared to be the only thing O'Neill remembered about the place. 'The one that could help provide Earth with a defence against Anubis...as long as we find it before he does.'

'Do you think that's really possible?' Hammond asked.

'Well, she has given us the impression she's from another planet we suspect is outside of our galaxy because we've never heard any reference to it and we can't connect to it using the symbols provided, and she writes in a script very similar to that of the Ancients. She also referred to the previous occupants of the city as the Ancestors, so she could be referring to the first incarnation of the human form...the Ancients.'

'Even if that's true, she's not exactly been forthcoming with any information so far,' Carter pointed out. 'I'm not sure she's gonna be willing to divulge its whereabouts to us just like that.'

'No...we need some kind of leverage,' Daniel mused. And suddenly all eyes were on Sheppard again.

He leaned back away from the table, holding his hands up in mock surrender. 'Hey...I tried talking to her already. She didn't exactly warm to me.'

'Not at the time, but you heard what she told Dr Jefferies. She's sorry for what she did to you...so much so she wants to apologise in person. She hasn't had one polite word to say to any one of us since she arrived here. Bad as you feel that first encounter was, her meeting with you seems to have softened her attitude,' Daniel pointed out. 'I think she feels some kind of connection to you.'

Grimacing at the suggestion, Sheppard tried to persuade Daniel he was wrong. 'Wanting to say sorry isn't exactly a declaration of friendship. Besides, she may just be lining up another chance to attack me.'

'Whether she's genuine about her apology or not, she's a damn sight more talkative since you turned up,' O'Neill said, adding his support to the discussion. 'I think we should give you another crack at her.'

'Indeed,' Teal'c added.

Sheppard arched an eyebrow at him, but when the huge man looked his way, he backed down. 'I thought I'd be going home today...'

'I wish I could let you go, but it does appear you could still be of some use to us here,' the general told him. 'I'm going to have to ask you to stay a while longer. We'll try not to keep you here for too long.'

'Yes, Sir,' Sheppard grunted, though he was far from happy about it.

'The truth is, the help you can give us in gaining any information about this city could prove invaluable to the defence of our planet,' Daniel said, desperate to enthuse him. 'There are some pretty bad things going on out there that you have absolutely no idea about, and we need to be able to fight back if they come our way. This lost city, if it is the lost city were looking for, could make the difference between the general population continuing to live their lives in blissful ignorance of the fact there are dangerous aliens lurking beyond our solar system, or their complete annihilation.'

'So...no pressure then,' Sheppard quipped, feeling suddenly burdened.

'Welcome to our world,' was the response O'Neill chimed back at him.

'Major Carter, do we know when Dr McKay is due to arrive?' the general asked, changing the subject.

An odd and distinctly wry smile slipped onto Carter's face, and her body language tightened. Sheppard guessed whoever this McKay guy was, he definitely wasn't popular. 'Apparently his flight from Moscow gets into Peterson Air Force Base at 1430 hours. Major Davis will pick him up from there.'

'Well, since we can't approach Sarayah again until tomorrow, might I suggest we convene again at 1700 hours once we have Dr McKay settled in?'

'Yes, Sir.'

'Can I leave that in your capable hands, Major?'

Though she looked far from pleased at the prospect, Carter respectfully agreed. O'Neill just smirked.

'Dismissed,' Hammond announced, and everyone leapt out of their seats. Sheppard followed suit, quickly catching up with the general.

'Uh, Sir. I could really do with calling my wife. I need to let her know I'm gonna be staying longer than I hoped.'

'Of course, Major. You can use the phone in my office,' he readily agreed, and Sheppard followed him there. At the door, the general opened it for him and stood back to let him in alone. 'You take as long as you need, but if the red phone rings...let me know.'

'Will do, Sir,' he smiled, closing the door on the rest of the base.

He settled into Hammond's big leather chair, noticing the picture of a couple of kids on his desk. Grandchildren, he presumed from his estimation of the general's age. They were cute kids, and the sight of them as he picked up the receiver and asked for an outside line made him wistful for what could have been had he chosen a different career. Perhaps things would have been different now if he and Nancy had started a family. Once he heard the dialling tone, he punched in her number and waited, half expecting her answer-phone to kick in. It didn't, and her voice sounded anxious when she picked up.

'_Hello.'_

'Hey Nancy. It's me.'

He listened to the definite pause before she spoke again. _'John! Thank God! Where are you?'_

'Currently residing at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.'

Another pause. _'Still?'_

He winced, glad she couldn't actually see him. 'Yeah...still.'

'_So, what's going on?'_

'Well, I've been asked here to help out with an investigation.'

'_Why didn't you call me yesterday?'_

He reached up and tentatively touched the stitches in his scalp. 'Uh, I was kind of indisposed. Sorry.'

'_Are you all right, John? Are you in some kind of trouble?'_

'No...no trouble,' he assured her.

'_So what's this all about?'_

He grimaced, knowing his answer wouldn't go down well. 'I can't really tell you, Nancy. It's...classified.'

This time there was a lengthier pause, followed by a definite sigh. _'Isn't it always?'_

'I'm sorry, honey. Look, I may be stuck here for another day or two yet, but I promise to come home just as soon as I can.'

'_Well, I guess since you're there at the president's request, I can't really complain,_' she replied, yet the bitterness with which she said those words was complaint enough.

Much as her attitude bugged him, he knew this was no time to start an argument. So he just went along with her. 'No...I guess not. I'll see you as soon as I can. Love you.'

'_I'll expect you when I see you...like always,'_ she answered, her curtness and lack of reciprocation cutting deep as the line went dead.

He took the receiver from his ear and stared at it. 'Well, I guess you could always get "cooking" with Grant,' he muttered, slamming it down. He took a few minutes to get his emotions back in check before leaving the room.

Apparently he didn't do all that good a job of it, because when he exited and walked straight into the general and Daniel, they both looked concerned. 'Everything all right?' Daniel asked.

'Uh...yeah. She's disappointed I'm not heading home yet, but...' He shrugged. It wasn't as if he could do anything about it.

'Would it help if I had a word with her to explain things, son?' the general offered.

For a second or two, Sheppard actually considered the suggestion, but then shook his head. 'Thanks for the offer, Sir, but Nancy doesn't enjoy being soft-soaped. I think it's better if I leave her to cool off for now.'

'I understand,' the general said with a brief smile, patting his shoulder.

'So...I've just been to check on our guest, and she'd like to give you that apology now. You up for it?' Daniel asked, thumbing toward the door.

No, he really wasn't up for it, but Sheppard supposed it was something he was going to have to do if he was going to be of any real help, so he might as well get it over with.

'Sure,' he replied, trying to sound relaxed about it. He couldn't stop his hand subconsciously finding its way to the back of his head again though.

oooOOOooo

The two guards posted outside Sarayah's quarters gave a respectful nod of their heads as Sheppard arrived, unlocking the door at Daniel's request.

They slipped inside and he found Sarayah sitting on her bed, though she immediately rose as soon as she saw him, taking a few steps toward him before seeming to check herself. Her eyes burned into him, just as they always did, and even when Daniel spoke to her, her gaze never strayed from Sheppard for a second.

'Sarayah, John has been good enough to agree to hear your apology, so...'

He gestured that she should go ahead, and she instantly thrust out her left hand in what Sheppard realised was an offer of a handshake. He accepted the gesture, and she gripped him tightly, resting the stump of her right arm on top of their conjoined hands. 'I'm so sorry for hurting you, John. I hope you can forgive me.'

The intensity of her gaze seemed to increase with the contact, and despite the fact his instincts told him to rip his hand free, he left it in her grip and forced on a smile for her. 'Of course...so long as you don't hit me again.'

Her grasp tightened as if she sensed his desire to extricate himself from the handshake. 'I don't know what came over me...I've been so confused lately...but I really am glad you're here.'

Sheppard wasn't easily unnerved, but this niceness made him increasingly wary. With a determined tug he broke free. 'Well...that's good,' he replied, not having a clue what else to say.

She looked briefly troubled by the fact he'd pulled back, but she soon brightened, heading back to her bed to sit again. Sheppard stood his ground, staying near to Daniel and the door.

'I've been told I owe my life to you,' she smiled, though he couldn't help but feel a coldness in her manner, as if she were saying it because it was expected of her, rather than her comments being driven by any true sentiment. 'If you hadn't found me as quickly as you did I could have bled to death.'

He plunged his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, exchanging a glance with Daniel again. 'Well, I was just doing my job,' he said, matter-of-fact.

'Your job? I was told you were the pilot.'

'I was...but I couldn't just stand around while people were dying...'

'Always putting others first,' she murmured, still staring intently at him.

He narrowed his eyes, wondering why she'd said that. He'd heard people accuse him of that "fault" numerous times in his life, mostly Nancy, who found his inability to say no to anyone in need absolutely infuriating. But how did this woman know?

She must have seen the question in his expression, because she explained herself without him even asking the question. 'I've met others like you...people who put themselves on the line to ease the suffering of others. You strike me as being the type.'

He shrugged. 'I just did what seemed right at the time.'

'Will you stay and talk a while?' she asked, surprising him.

He really didn't want to engage her any more than he already had, and looked back toward Daniel, silently begging him for a get out.

'Uh, we have a meeting soon, actually,' Daniel told her, half turning toward the door. 'In fact, we should probably go and find out if it's ready to start...'

At last, Sarayah's eyes moved from Sheppard in Daniel's direction. 'Does John need to be at the meeting?'

'Uh, well, yes...yes he does,' Daniel replied, pushing his glasses up his nose and folding his arms. 'Why?'

She shrugged now, resting her hand on her dressing as if drawing attention to it. 'I was hoping to have time to reacquaint myself with him. He has a friendly face. He makes me feel...safe.'

'Don't I have a friendly face?' Daniel asked, his mouth twitching up into a smile. 'Don't I make you feel safe?'

'You do have a friendly face, Dr Jackson,' she conceded, with a slight smirk, 'but you don't make me feel safe. You and your friends have an agenda...you want something from me. John is just as in the dark as I am here. You're manipulating him...that gives us something in common. We're both victims of the ambition of those running this base.' Her attention shifted back to Sheppard. 'I'd like us to be friends, John. Good friends.'

An unnatural coldness gripped his body as her dark eyes bore into his, and the weirdest sense of déjà vu washed over him, though he had no idea why. He didn't know her...did he? 'I should...go call my wife,' he said, feeling utterly pathetic that he had to use his marriage as a way to deflect her attentions. Why couldn't he just say he didn't want to be her friend? He couldn't because everyone here was depending on him to drag some nuggets of information out of her, and to do that he had to keep her on side. She probably knew that, too. Jefferies had said she was smart; maybe she was the manipulative one in all this.

'Right,' Daniel piped up, gesturing toward the door. 'I'll take you to a phone. I'll stop by and see how you're doing later, Sarayah. Okay?'

She had the good grace to look sad rather than angry, but that wasn't the vibe Sheppard was getting from her. A seething, stifling annoyance filled up the room at the mere mention of his wife, but Sarayah didn't seem surprised by the news, just irritated. 'Perhaps I will see you too, John?' she called after him as he headed out the room.

'Uh, yeah...perhaps,' he mumbled, glad to be out of there as the door slammed shut behind him.

The sigh of relief that passed his lips on their departure was obviously louder than he'd intended it to be, because Daniel raised his eyebrows and asked, 'You all right?'

'Yeah, it's just...'He stalled, finding it hard to put how she made him feel into words. '...she's more...intense than I was prepared for.'

Daniel nodded as they began to walk away, 'Well, she certainly seems to have taken a shine to you. I take it that's why you said you needed to call your wife?'

'No point in stringing her along,' Sheppard mused. 'I know you guys want me to play nice with her, but I take it you didn't intend me to be _that _nice?'

'Oh, no. No!' Daniel looked a little flustered by his question, and Sheppard had to wonder if the subject might have been discussed without his knowledge. 'We don't expect you to do anything...compromising.'

'But this information you want from her is important, right?'

Daniel looked at him earnestly, nodding. 'Vital...that said, if this gets too much for you don't hesitate to tell us.'

'I can handle her,' Sheppard assured him, briefly glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of her room. 'She's not the first crazy I've ever met.'

'No...' Daniel mused grimly, slapping him on the back as they reached the elevator to take them back to the others. 'Unfortunately, she's not the first crazy we've met either.'

oooOOOooo

Behind her closed door, Sarayah held her fury in check. Staring at the spot where Sheppard had just stood, she considered what her life had been reduced to. Once, she'd been respected and feared, controlling men with the lash of her whip or a sound beating, breaking them and using them, just as it should be. And then Sheppard had come along, turning her world upside down, getting under her skin in a way no other man ever had, and tearing her society apart with his superior opinions and blood-link to the Ancestors. He'd changed everything on Medulsa, and she hadn't felt at home on her own world or any other world since then.

But this man wasn't that Sheppard.

This man was younger, had no idea who she was or what she was capable of. She almost felt some empathy with him because he quite clearly felt out of place here and uncomfortable with his role in her interrogation. And yes, this was an interrogation, not matter how much they tried to soften it with a comfortable room and fake smiles. She was a prisoner, just as she had been on Medulsa before her escape. She'd wanted Sheppard to pay for that humiliation, and she'd gained some atonement for his crimes, but he had never fully bowed to her will. She closed her eyes and savoured the memory of the events on Guedeseo, sucking her lip at the thought of the taste of him, his skin glistening with blood and sweat, remembering his screams as she'd tortured him by hanging him from that beam in the cold wooden shack they'd made their home for the night after the vicious native beast had almost killed him.

She recalled now his expression when he'd first stumbled across her on that planet, the genuine fear that had visibly swept through him until he'd locked his knees and aimed his weapon. Oh, and the sweetness of his confusion and anger when she'd claimed to be there to change her ways and face judgement by the Divine One.

She looked down at her damaged arm, the one the Divine One had claimed. Perhaps she _had_ been judged and this was her punishment, robbed of the hand she'd used to torture him and the rest of her body cast out into another place and time. Another place where she would be tempted by him once again to see how she might react?

But this wasn't _that_ Sheppard...

This young man, and he was young again, younger than she had ever known him and more beautiful than she even recalled, devoid of the hatred and wariness with which he'd viewed her at the end, this young man was perfection. She had taken his beauty and marked it, shredding his skin, burning his flesh, beaten him, breaking his bones and stealing away his free will, but he hadn't caved in when so many men had after much, much less. So was this younger version capable of withstanding as much? No! She had to stop thinking that way. But what if she'd been wrong about the Divine One sending her here to set things right? What if this was a punishment? Perhaps she was here to make amends in some way. She had information they needed, or so the people here thought. Was that her purpose for being put on this world, to help them understand something? To make his life easier?

But she was forgetting something. Sheppard himself had somehow summoned the Divine One._ He_ had judged her. He was responsible for all this. She pulled at the bandages covering her stump, removing the dressing to expose the still angry wound, healing but raw and uncomfortable to touch. No matter how permanent the marks she had left on the other Sheppard, nothing equalled what he'd done to her, and her desire for revenge glowed into life once more. But she would have to be careful how she went about it, subtle, skilful, intelligent. She could keep him here a while until she figured out a way to escape and take him out of there with her. And once she had him alone again...

The recollection of waking next to him in the bed in that wooden shack, the warmth of his body the only source of heat in that sparse bedroom, made her ache to be near him, so much so that for just a moment she didn't notice the strange tingling sensation in her left hand again. By the time she did, when she lost her grip on the bandage she'd just removed, it was already fading, breaking apart into tiny fragments and disintegrating into thin air before her eyes. Her gasp caught in her throat, her heart almost stopping. What was this? Was she asleep? Was this just a nightmare as she had told Dr Jefferies? Holding her screams in, she felt the prickle pass throughout her body, like a static charge, then experienced the sensation of her consciousness detaching from her body, lifting, floating...was she dying? She didn't want to go...not now...

Almost as soon as that question formed she was back in her body and her hand solidified once more. She flexed it, not quite believing it was whole again, completely normal.

Her heart gradually slowed to its normal beat and she wondered if it had all been in her imagination. It had felt real, though, as if she were...disappearing. What had the Divine One done to her? What had John Sheppard done to her?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hmmmmm, so what has he done to her? And Sarayah wants to Sheppard's friend? Yeah, we've heard that before! Thanks to all those of you still reading and reviewing. Some of you I haven't been able to respond to personally due to you not being signed in or your settings not allowing DMs, but I'd like you all to know that your comments are appreciated. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Sheppard was back in the conference room again some three hours after the last meeting had finished. He took up a seat beside Major Carter, hoping he wasn't stepping on anyone's toes as there didn't seem to be any seat allocated to anyone in particular. O'Neill poured himself a coffee, despite having already had two cups in the mess hall, then took up the seat opposite his. 'You should get a cup now,' he told Sheppard with a smirk. 'Once McKay gets here, you won't get a look in. He inhales the stuff.'

Daniel, who had sat down opposite Carter, bounced back out of his seat to get himself another cup, too, as if the colonel's joke had reminded him of the truth of that fact.

Teal'c, who struck Sheppard as something of a gentle giant, sat in quiet contemplation, fingers knitted together as his hands rested on the table top, and his eyes closed as if in meditation.

'He does that a lot,' O'Neill told him, apparently noticing his quizzical expression. 'He tells me it helps to clear his mind of distracting thoughts, but I think he's just sleeping.'

Teal'c's eyes opened just a fraction as he glanced O'Neill's way, then he simply closed them again without comment.

They'd shared an interesting meal together, the four men. Carter had been busy with...well, she always seemed to be busy with something, and though Daniel had told him what it was, Sheppard hadn't even understood half the words he'd used. Carter gave the impression of having the kind of brain that worked too quickly for the rest of her body to keep up with, something that was no doubt endlessly frustrating to her.

Sheppard had warmed to O'Neill over the course of a beef steak, realising the man had a quick wit despite his best attempts to play it dumb. And his sarcasm knew no limits. He and Daniel had battled their way through the meal, the younger man obviously concerned by the elder's lack of compassion for their unusual guest. But Sheppard had eventually realised where O'Neill was coming from. He actually believed Sarayah might be responsible for the explosion that had killed the coalition troops. The colonel didn't buy into the whole idea that Sarayah had somehow fallen out of the sky from another time and place, which made Sheppard feel a whole lot better. At least he wasn't the only one struggling to come to terms with the idea this woman really knew him and Carter. The colonel was right there alongside him in the disbelief stakes. He'd described her as a fruit loop, and when Daniel had tried to point out that she might be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder, he'd shot him down in flames. Sheppard had to agree; her behaviour, though odd, was like no PTSD he'd ever seen, and he'd witnessed a few cases in his time. Her moods were far more calculated.

General Hammond arrived and assumed his usual seat at the head of the table. 'Major Davis and Dr McKay are on their way down now. Do you have the information you want to discuss, Major?'

Carter nodded, instantly sliding folders out across the table to each of them seated there. Though the rest of them all took the files and began flicking through them, Sheppard noticed Teal'c left his own copy sitting on the tabletop in front of him. Sheppard wondered if he was somehow able to absorb information just through sheer concentration, then realised that was ridiculous. He was an alien, but only a human from another world. There was no reason he should have any super powers.

'I made some pretty interesting discoveries when I began to collate all the information together, Sir,' she explained. 'I gathered intelligence from telemetry of –'

'Perhaps we should save this for a few minutes until the major and Dr McKay arrive,' Hammond suggested, cutting her short. 'We wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot before we even get going.'

Carter's sour expression told Sheppard everything he needed to know. She didn't care much for this McKay guy, whoever he was, and since Carter seemed like a reasonable woman, he had to assume the fault lay with the other guy. Still, he wasn't the type to let other people's opinions influence him, so he decided to give this McKay the benefit of the doubt.

He didn't have to wait long to get his first dose of the man, and straight away he realised why Carter had pulled that face.

McKay strutted into the room, jaw jutted, and wearing the kind of arrogant smirk Sheppard would normally knock right off a man's face. 'So, apparently I'm such an idiot that I'm only good enough to work in Russia, but the first sniff of a problem, and here I am again,' he snorted. 'What is this...three times you've recalled me now?' He looked around at them all until his eyes fell on Sheppard. 'Who's this?'

Sheppard stood and extended his hand. 'Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force.'

McKay just rolled his eyes. 'Great! Another flyboy. That should help!' he snorted, walking to a free seat on the opposite side of the table and dropping into it. 'So what's the emergency this time? Imminent death for the world's population? Some 'gate fault you need my staggering intellect to decipher? '

Sheppard let his hand drop, catching the twitch of O'Neill's eyebrow though the rest of his expression remained dead-pan. This arrogance was apparently not a surprise to any of them. He sat back down, choosing to bite his tongue...for now.

'Welcome back, Dr McKay,' General Hammond said, brushing aside the scientist's insults. 'If you're ready, Major Carter has prepared a file and presentation to bring you up to speed on our current dilemma.'

'Great. Any holiday snaps in there, blondie?' the scientist quipped. His question met with stony silence, and not just from Carter as she pushed back her seat, tossing a folder his way.

'Okay, long story short. On July 8th 2003, there was an RPG attack on a coalition convoy, killing four and seriously injuring several others. Amongst the injured was this woman –' The screen beside her projected an image of Sarayah, unsmiling, her gaze as penetrating as it had been in her room just a few hours ago. Sheppard felt an involuntary shudder pass through him at the sight of her. After yesterday, the last thing he'd been expecting was for her to want to be his friend. The change of heart unsettled him enough to make him avert his gaze from the picture.

'Her name is Sarayah. She claims to be from a place called Medulsa, and she has no recollection of how she came to be caught up in the incident.'

McKay, who had been reading along while she'd spoken now sat back and looked at the picture. 'Well, if I'd caused an explosion like that, I think I'd pretend not to know what was going on!' he snorted.

Carter's smile was strained at best. 'You have a point, and that's one angle we've been considering.'

'One angle? It's the obvious angle. She's probably one of those fanatical suicide bombers.'

'Not a very successful one,' O'Neill grunted, without shifting position from his leaning on the table.

'How so, Sir?' Carter asked.

'She's still alive,' he pointed out.

'Very funny,' McKay retorted, 'but you know what I mean. She probably fired the RPG. Didn't anyone see her there?'

'Unfortunately everyone in the first car who had the best view of the road was killed, so we can't say for certain. But one thing we are certain of...' Carter picked a packing box up from the floor beside her chair and dropped it on the table, pulling out something packaged in plastic and throwing it across the table to land in front of him. 'There are no explosive residues on her clothing that are anything like a match to the RPG used. All we have are traces of GSR.'

McKay frowned, picking up the package. 'She was wearing this?'

'Uh huh,' Sam replied, apparently amused by his confusion as he turned the shirt to look at the Atlantis patch, squinting at it through the shining plastic cover.

'So what? Is this some kind of underground Stargate organisation? I mean, that is a Chevron, right?'

'That's our interpretation,' Hammond agreed. 'But no one is admitting to anything. We can't be certain the NID aren't involved, but if she's one of their agents, she's certainly one of the most convincing actors I've ever come across. When we asked her if she worked for them, she looked completely baffled.'

McKay just shrugged. 'So she's a good actress. That's not beyond the realms of possibility. Sorry if this may sound rude, but I'm struggling to see what possible reason you have for bringing me here. Much as Russia wouldn't have been my first choice of workplace, I was doing some very important work out there before I got dragged away on this wild goose chase!'

'The woman claims to know some of us,' Sam told him, clearly struggling to maintain her calm demeanour. ' Myself, Major Sheppard –'

'And again I say how does this involve me?'

' – and you, McKay. She used your name and said you could help her.'

His face fell and he looked at the picture on the screen again. 'Well, I'm sure I would remember meeting her if I had. She's kinda hot.'

Carter's arms dropped limply at her sides and her eyes rolled to the ceiling. 'Oh, boy. This is gonna be a long meeting.'

'What? Well, she is...You agree, right?' he asked, suddenly looking Sheppard's way.

'Uh...I guess,' Sheppard replied, non-committal. He didn't want to think about it because she'd already made it quite clear she found him attractive. And with things as rocky as they already were with Nancy, he really didn't need the trouble.

'I think it's important to mention that she thought both you and Major Sheppard were more senior in rank. And that the two of you were working together in a place called Atlantis,' Daniel interjected, getting the conversation n back on track. 'We have to consider she's arrived here from the future.'

'Oh yes? And how would she have done that, exactly?' McKay sneered, leaning right back in his seat and folding his arms. 'The Taliban using time machines now, huh?'

'I don't think she's actually Taliban,' Daniel began. 'In their culture women are considered second class citizens. They're not likely to trust her with something this important.'

'Well, there's a first time for everything,' O'Neill interrupted. 'Like Sheppard said, cutting off hands is one of the Taliban's trademark punishments. We can't rule out that she worked for them in some capacity and broke some kind of rule, so they abandoned her at the scene. If they dumped her there after the RPG attack, that would explain why she didn't have any traces of the explosives on her clothes.'

Carter shook her head as she considered his suggestion. 'They would have had to move pretty quickly to launch the RPGs then drag her down to the scene and cut off her hand and still get away before Major Sheppard's CASEVAC flight arrived.'

'Yes, because that's so much less believable than those fanatics having time travel capabilities,' McKay scoffed. 'Still full of crazy ideas I see, Major.'

'Hey! How about showing a little respect, Dr McKay?' Sheppard snapped, much to everyone's amazement. It seemed these people were used to McKay's manner and accepted it, but as far as Sheppard was concerned, there was no excuse for that level of antagonism.

Carter smiled her thanks and then continued. 'I'm not saying the Taliban can travel in time, McKay. I don't think we should assume Taliban involvement just because her right hand was missing when we found her. At first, she claimed Major Sheppard had cut it off.'

'You cut off her hand?' McKay flicked on a few pages, obviously finding the pictures of her various injuries. 'Oh my God! That's gross. I think I'm gonna puke.'

'Well, that would be an improvement on the usual crap that comes out of your mouth,' O'Neill grunted, leaning back at staring at him, deadpan.

'I didn't cut off her hand,' Sheppard corrected, keen to get that idea out of the man's head. 'She's admitted herself now that she thinks she was getting things confused due to the trauma –'

'But none of that explains how she knew our names,' Sam pointed out, and he had to admit, she had a point. 'Now, if I could update you all on my most recent work,' she said, changing the picture on her screen. 'I've been trawling through telemetry of the area involved in the attack over the past couple of days since she got here and we have some data regarding the explosions.'

Several graphs appeared, not that Sheppard understood the information on them at all. McKay, on the other hand, appeared to immediately grasp their significance, leaning forward in his chair as if a reduction in proximity would change them somehow. 'And this was at the explosion site?'

She nodded. 'The first graph shows power released during the RPG attack. The second, a reading taken only thirty seconds later, shows a much larger energy spike, one that's completely different.'

'No kidding! That reading's almost identical to the formation of a wormhole through the Stargate!' McKay stood up and got even closer to examine the readings. 'It's less stable and far more short-lived, but that's definitely a wormhole signature.'

'A wormhole...on the AH01,' O'Neill clarified, looking doubtful.

'I know this sounds unlikely, Sir, but these energy traces are unmistakable.'

'You didn't happen to see a wormhole as you flew in to rescue her, did you, Major?' McKay asked Sheppard, peering back over his shoulder at him.

He just stared back at him in disbelief. 'Gee, no. I don't think so...but I guess I may have missed it...I am just a flyboy, after all,' he drawled, pouting back at him.

'Okay, Major Moody McGrouch. I was just asking!'

'Gentlemen, please. If we could stick to the point,' Hammond warned them, stamping down on the brewing argument before it could fully erupt.

'Sorry, Sir,' Sheppard apologised, hating the victorious smirk now inching its way across McKay's smug face.

'It was over before Major Sheppard got there, but I think someone saw it,' Carter explained. 'If you all turn to page twenty-four in those files, you'll read two eye witness reports from troops in the rear vehicle. They both claim to have seen a flash of brilliant blue light along with a rushing sound. They commented on it because it was unusual to not hear the rush first before the explosion. But I don't think that was a second RPG. I think it was a wormhole. A wormhole took out the second vehicle.'

'Excuse me?' O'Neill said, cocking his head. 'Like we said before, we have the only operational Stargate on this planet. Are you telling me there's another one...again?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know, Sir...I really don't know.'

This was the moment Teal'c chose to finally speak. 'If Sarayah is truly from the future as has been suggested, is it not possible that someonein the time she comes from may have figured out how to generate a wormhole in a manner that does not require a Stargate?'

John wondered if it was that meditation thing he did that gave him such clarity of thought, because that was just about the most sensible thing he'd heard all day...in a crazy sci-fi kind of way.

'Well...yes...that's a possibility,' Carter agreed, but this was apparently the first she'd thought about it.

'Oh, please...like wormhole theory is so simple we could go from using Stargates to spontaneous wormhole generation in our lifetimes,' McKay scoffed.

'Well, maybe we can't, but who's to say Sarayah's race can't?'

'Er...I do,' he snorted. 'Do you have any idea how complex the process is? First, you have to –'

Carter planted her hands on her hips and glared, and Sheppard figured that, yes, she understood the complexities. 'I always knew you were arrogant, McKay, but do you honestly think you're the smartest guy alive? There could be plenty of beings out there who are way smarter than either of us.'

'Now that's a scary thought,' O'Neill muttered, then he added, 'but since we can't even get a lock on the co-ordinates she gave us for her home-world, we're not able to verify that.'

McKay just smirked as if the whole idea was comical to him.

'In the light of these new discoveries, might I suggest that both you and Dr McKay work on extrapolating what information you can from those readings, Major?' Hammond asked, instigating control in his usual calm manner.

'Yes, Sir,' she immediately responded, though her pained expression told them all she wasn't entirely happy at the prospect of working with McKay.

'Dr Jackson, Major Sheppard, how did the apology go?'

'Uh,' Daniel sat forward, adjusting his glasses. 'Good...good. Better than expected, actually,' he confessed, sending an apologetic look Sheppard's way. Embarrassing as it was, Sheppard knew then that he was going to share Sarayah's reaction to him with the rest of them. 'She wants to be John's friend.'

'If that's how she treats her friends, I'd hate to see what she does to her enemies,' O'Neill quipped.

'Indeed,' Teal'c agreed.

Hammond narrowed his eyes, clearly troubled by the news. 'When you say friend, what exactly do you mean, Dr Jackson?'

'Well, I don't want to put words into her mouth, but I got the impression she...she feels a connection.'

Hammond picked his way through Daniel's carefully worded answer and asked, 'And are you sure you're comfortable with continuing to help us, Major Sheppard?'

Across the table, McKay coughed out a laugh. 'The flyboy has a hot admirer. What's not to be comfortable with?'

Sheppard shot him a look, then answered the general's polite query. 'Yes, Sir. I made it clear I'm not available, but if being her friend helps you people to figure this mystery out, I'm prepared to see it through.'

'What a hero!' McKay sneered, shaking his head.

Sheppard resisted the urge to bite, deciding the others might just have the right idea about how to deal with the jerk.

'Thank you, Major. We're grateful for any help you can offer. Now, since we're not allowed to question Sarayah further until tomorrow, perhaps it would be wise to use this time to gather all the information we have into some definitive order so we can understand it as best we can when we tackle her again. I have a feeling that young lady knows a lot more than she's been letting on, so let's see that we get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later.'

'Yes, Sir. You can count on us,' O'Neill assured him with rather too much zeal.

'Dismissed,' Hammond announced, rising from his seat as everyone else stood, taking the file of information Carter had compiled along with him.

Once he'd departed, McKay gave Carter a lopsided grin. 'So, Major...where do you want me?'

'You really _do not_ want me to answer that,' she muttered, stalking out of the room with the scientist trailing eagerly behind her.

'You know what we should do?' O'Neill piped up to the rest of them, thrusting his hands into his pockets and jutting his chin.

'What?' The wariness in Daniel's tone was plain to hear and Sheppard suspected O'Neill's impending suggestion might not meet with his approval.

'Eat pie,' he said simply, striking out for the mess hall again.

Sheppard couldn't resist a smile when he saw Daniel's look of sheer exasperation. O'Neill was a man after his own heart. Pie made everything seem better. And the way he felt right now, he knew nothing but a double portion would improve his mood.

oooOOOooo

The following morning Sheppard headed out for a run. He hadn't been out for a couple of days now, and felt stir crazy stuck underground in amongst all that artificial lighting and mind numbing science. Running was as much a part of John Sheppard as breathing, giving him time to order his thoughts and clear away any cobwebs...not to mention burning off the excess energy always building inside him.

He'd asked for clearance to leave the base as soon as he'd woken, figuring it was better to run on an empty stomach than risk getting a stitch. He'd found Daniel already up and in his office, and he'd downloaded a map of the immediate area for him to show him what terrain he was up against. So, once he'd borrowed some running kit, he'd headed out on Norad Road, passing through security and on past the car park for the numerous staff in the facility, heading east toward Route 115, rhythmically pounding the tarmac with little to no concern for the intermittent traffic on the restricted road.

Keeping his pace steady, he thought through everything that had happened since he'd returned to the States. Nancy's attitude to his return from a tour of duty had been colder than ever, leading him to believe she'd pretty much made up her mind that life as Mrs Sheppard wasn't for her. If only this could all have waited a couple of days, they could have discussed this and settled some things one way or another. Instead, he felt like he was hanging on a thread, not knowing whether she wanted to cut it or reel it in.

And then there was Sarayah...

McKay was right, she was hot for an older woman, and for maybe just a moment he'd been a little flattered when she'd made it clear she was attracted to him. But if he and Nancy still had any chance of keeping things together he couldn't allow another woman to muddy the waters. He had to give their marriage a shot. Besides, Sarayah was...odd. He couldn't figure out exactly what it was about her that made him so edgy, other than the fact she officially didn't exist, and their first conversation had left him with a concussion, which on consideration was more than enough. He swiped away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead and was now running into his eyes and kept going, recalling the way she'd eyed him yesterday when offering up her supposed apology. Though she'd said all the right things, he hadn't totally believed it. It just felt like she was luring him into a honey trap, testing his fidelity. Well, he'd passed that first test, and he had no intention of failing any time soon, not while there was still a chance with Nancy.

He pounded on, his muscles now burning with the effort, but he enjoyed that feeling, the sensation that he was pushing himself to his limits. His body wanted to stop, but his mind wouldn't let him, knowing if he forged on he would get through this and find a comfortable pace again. The roads out here were virtually vehicle free, only the occasional car allowed through the checkpoint, where he too had to stop and show his ID and clearance to be on that route. Around him, rough landscape banked up on both sides of the road at first, covered in sparse shrubs and grass, but the further he went, the closer to civilisation he got, spotting roofs and civilian vehicles on a parallel road as the din of Route 115 grew louder in the distance. He lost himself in that noise, in the rhythm of his feet hitting the road, in the rapid beat of his heart, breaking through the wall and feeling the exhilaration of endorphins coursing through him again, the fresh air making him more alert than he'd felt for the past two days.

The sound of his cell phone ringing caught him off-guard, and he slowed to fumble in his pocket to retrieve it, hoping it might be Nancy, though it would have been a hell of a time for her to be awake in the morning. It wasn't; the name displayed read 'Daniel'. He'd insisted they exchange phone numbers before Sheppard had headed out in case of an emergency, though at the time Sheppard had wondered what kind of an emergency could possibly arise that would require his assistance before his run was over.

'Daniel?'

'_Hey, John. How's it going?'_

'Uh...good,' he replied, thinking it an odd question.

'_How far out are you?'_

Ahead of him, the traffic noise from Route 115 was making it hard to hear. He padded to a stop. 'Near the 115.'

'_Really? Wow...I didn't know you were going that far!'_

'It's only a few miles.'

'_Right...well, sorry to put the brakes on your fun, but we need you to come back.'_

Sheppard looked toward Route 115, cars ripping along it only a quarter of a mile or so away. 'Okay, I'll head back in. What's the emergency?'

'_Sarayah wants to talk and General Hammond doesn't think we should keep her waiting.'_

'And she can't talk without me being there?'

'_Apparently not. She's insisting you be there.'_

Sheppard thought keeping Sarayah waiting might actually do her some good, but wasn't in a position to refuse an order from Hammond. 'Then I guess I'd better pick up the pace.'

'_No need. I'll send someone out to pick you up.'_

'It's that urgent?

'_Yeah...Sarayah hasn't volunteered to talk before...we don't wanna miss this window of opportunity.'_

'Okay. I'll head back and jump in when we meet up.'

Sheppard cut off the call and ran fast, figuring that way he could get in a good burst of cardiovascular work before the car Daniel was sending out reached him. The shock of his feet hitting the ground at this increased speed sent sparks of pain through the cut on his head, and he knew Dr Fraiser would freak since she'd told him only gentle exercise for a few days, but the situation called for something more and so did his mood. The running was already helping to release the building tension of the meeting that lay ahead.

He was a mile or so back along the road when a jeep did a U-turn in the road and pulled up alongside him so he could jump in. Though it hadn't been his usual 10K effort, he still felt better for what distance he'd covered, now too physically drained to feel the tension that had been knotting his muscles for days. As he returned through the chilly mountainside entrance tunnel, Daniel was waiting for him with a couple of toasted bagels and a carton of orange juice.

The cold air instantly cooled him and the food was just what he needed to replenish his reserves. 'Thanks, Daniel. You're a lifesaver!'

'Well, much as I think providing you with food and drink is a little overstated in terms of life saving, the gratitude's appreciated,' the doctor chuckled.

Sheppard took the plate from him as they walked, demolishing the first bagel in just four bites while Daniel brought him up to speed.

'So, as you know, Sarayah woke up this morning and suddenly feels like she has something to say. Apparently, she had some kind of dream last night that brought back a few memories. The general's keen for us to get in there and unravel things before she clams up on us again.'

'Understandable,' Sheppard muffled out through a mouthful of his breakfast, trying not to spray breadcrumbs.

'She says she wants you there because she finds your presence...comforting.'

Daniel looked at him without any kind of bias, clearly waiting for his reaction before giving his own opinion. Sheppard swallowed, then handed Daniel the plate and took the juice from him. 'Comforting, huh? That's not what she was saying when we first met.'

They reached the elevator and began the journey down to Stargate Command, as Sheppard snatched up the second bagel and tucked in.

'Yeasss,' Daniel drawled. 'I confess the sudden change of mood has me a little...concerned, too. Still, until she gives us any cause not to, I guess we should give her the benefit of the doubt.'

'I guess.'

Daniel watched him finish that second bagel in record time as he continued. 'Anyway, General Hammond has decided that it might be prudent for Major Carter, Dr McKay and yourself to meet with Sarayah since you're the three people she claims to recognise. He thinks it might help her to feel more relaxed...or maybe even improve her recall.'

Sheppard was just slurping back some orange juice as he said that, and almost choked it right back out again. 'Relaxed? Wasn't he listening at that meeting we had yesterday? If he wants 'relaxed' McKay's the last person he needs in that room. It'll put Major Carter on edge for a start and I'm pretty sure Sarayah won't take kindly to his crap.'

'Oh, Sam can handle McKay, don't you worry about that, and he's promised to be on his best behaviour around Sarayah.'

Sheppard squinted back at him. 'Why am I not reassured by that?'

Daniel dropped his chin to his chest and huffed out a laugh. 'Yeah, you may have a point there, but the general thinks it's a good idea. Since she claims to have knowledge of all three of you, he wants to call her on it...find out how that's possible. If she and her people have the ability to generate wormholes anytime, anywhere, we really need to know.'

Daniel's bright blue eyes held Sheppard's with such intensity that he knew the time for levity was over. This was a matter of global security, and could potentially put everyone on the planet at risk. He had to play this right and get Sarayah to open up.

'So what do I have to do?' he asked, following Daniel out of the elevator.

The archaeologist shrugged. 'Not much. You're there more for...'

'Comfort?' Sheppard finished for him.

'Exactly. Just be your normal, charming self. Speak to her if she speaks to you, try to put her at ease...empathise. This place is almost as alien to you as it is to her after all. If anyone can sympathise with how lost she must be feeling right now, it's you.'

Okay, charming and empathetic he could definitely do if it got them the information they wanted. It didn't sound so bad. Daniel branched off to the left and only noticed after a few more paces that Sheppard was no longer following him.

'Uh, the meeting's this way.'

'And the locker room's this way. Trust me, Carter and McKay will not thank me if I show up for that meeting without getting cleaned up first. Five minutes, that's all I need.'

'All right. You're in the room you were in the first time you met Sarayah. Think you can find your way there?'

'Yeah...I think so.'

'Ok. I'll let everyone know you're on your way.

Approximately six minutes later, Sheppard darted up the corridor to the interrogation room, freshly showered and clothed in a laundered set of olives.

O'Neill made a big show of checking his watch. 'You're late, Sheppard.'

'Sorry, Sir. I was as quick as I could be.'

O'Neill's eyes glinted with mirth, but he kept his expression serious. 'Well, you're here now, so let's get this show on the road.'

'Yes, Sir,' Carter responded. 'Major, McKay and I are going to gather as much information on what she remembers as possible. You...you should just be you,' she smiled.

'And if I have any questions?'

'I think you should leave that kind of thing to us,' McKay told him with a superior smirk.

'Actually,' Carter interrupted, casting McKay a disparaging look. 'Having an outside perspective on things might be useful, so if you have any questions, ask away, Major. But on the whole, you're there to make her comfortable. A happy questionee is a chatty questionee.'

McKay frowned. 'You think?'

'Let's hope so,' Daniel agreed. 'And if you get a chance to ask about that lost city...'

'We'll, do our best, Daniel,' Carter promised him.

Daniel and O'Neill headed off, probably taking up position in the observation area, O'Neill slapping Sheppard's shoulder as he passed. Then Carter nodded to the two SFs posted on the door, and they opened it up to let them in.

Sarayah sat calmly behind the table this time, no adverse reaction to their presence observable, in fact this time she actually smiled.

Carter introduced McKay, although Sarayah already seemed familiar with him and commented that he, too, looked younger than she recalled...a now familiar comment.

That brief exchange over, her attention then shifted to Sheppard. 'Is it raining?'

'Huh?' Though her question momentarily threw him, he soon realised she was referring to his damp hair. 'Oh...no...I took a shower,' he explained, self-consciously running his hand back over his wet locks.

She lifted her chin, taking a deep breath. 'Ah...yes...I can smell that now.'

That response sent the creeps running right up his spine before his butt had even hit his seat, but he kept the worry from his expression and sat down to the left of Carter, McKay to her right. Thankfully, Carter instantly drew them back on topic.

'So, Sarayah, you mentioned that you'd dreamed something last night...something you believe may be an actual memory.'

'I did...and this morning I've had many more flashes of recall, though I confess I'm having difficulty making sense of them.'

'Well, that's okay. If you tell us what you've remembered, we may be able to help you do that.'

'I dreamt of a planet...a planet we all travelled to. You were there, John, and you Major Carter and you also, Dr McKay.'

On the other side of Sam, McKay let out a huff. 'Well, that's all very Wizard of Oz, but could you give us some details about what happened there?' McKay sneered, earning a glare from her.

Sheppard himself was just trying to figure out why Sarayah had used his first name while remaining so formal with the others.

'We were trapped on the planet. We travelled through the Circle of the Ancestors, but we had no way of leaving again.'

'Was there no DHD...I mean, the device used to select a destination?' Carter asked.

Sarayah smiled, inclining her head. 'You don't need to explain the term to me. I'm familiar with your use of it.'

'Right.'

Sheppard watched Carter and McKay exchange a glance and had to assume DHD or Dial Home Device, if he recalled correctly from the information he'd read, was a term they'd come up with here in the Stargate Programme.

'The planet was a place of repentance for those who had committed heinous crimes,' Sarayah continued. 'Once there, they could not leave, and only the Divine One could decide if they were forgiven or not.'

'Oh, here we go, the "Divine One"?' McKay repeated, his pained expression showing how he felt about the idea of religion being brought into the mix.

'That's correct.' Sarayah's eyes drifted toward Sheppard now, and he lifted his chin, waiting for what involvement she would claim he had. 'The Divine One seemed particularly drawn to you, John.'

'It's not the only one,' McKay snorted.

Sheppard ignored him, his eyebrows inching up a shade. 'Me? Why?'

'I don't know...but the Frahs noticed it, too.'

'The Frahs? And who might they be?' McKay demanded, folding his arms over himself, classic arrogance on his part.

'The Frahs were a benevolent order who had conversed with the Divine One and survived. They helped to organise the village and ensure everything that needed to be done was done to ensure the continuity of normal life there. It was an unusual planet with extremes of seasons beyond anything I'd witnessed before.'

'So they ruled the place,' McKay clarified, while Carter scribbled down that last detail.

Sarayah sucked in her cheeks, fixing him with a piercing look. 'No. They didn't. They held no jurisdiction. They advised, they counselled, but they didn't judge. That was the sole responsibility of the Divine One.'

McKay sighed dramatically. 'But of course it was.'

Beside him, Sheppard felt Carter tense. She clearly wasn't happy with McKay's tone, but surely she wasn't surprised? The guy had been like this from the minute he'd set foot in the conference room. Again, Carter brought the conversation back on track.

'I'm sorry, Sarayah, could I just clarify whether there was a DHD on the planet or not?' she asked her.

'Yes, there was, but it didn't work.'

'It was broken?'

'No...it just wouldn't work. A destination could be dialled, but the connection never succeeded.'

Again, Carter made more notes, and Sheppard could almost here that considerable brain of hers firing up. McKay, however, was less impressed with Sarayah's tale. 'Ancient technology is nearly infallible. I doubt very much it just stopped working. There must have been a logical reason –' Rodney insisted.

'You said much the same on that planet, Dr McKay,' Sarayah interrupted, cutting him off in mid-scoff. 'But despite the fact you could find no fault with it, you couldn't make it work. That was why Colonel Carter came to the planet. You required her help.'

'Colonel Carter?' McKay looked across at Carter, puzzled.

'Sarayah knew both myself and Major Sheppard by another rank. I was a Colonel, and Major Sheppard was Lieutenant Colonel,' Carter explained, before continuing to write.

'And who was I, the president?' he laughed.

'No, Dr McKay, you were exactly the same as you are now,' the woman said, her eyes cold and humourless, though the insinuation in her words was clear to hear.

'Oh...well, whatever you say, there's no way I would have called for help. I can fix a DHD blindfolded and with one hand tied behind my back!' McKay's eyes flicked briefly to Sarayah's injured arm, but he did his best to mask his embarrassment at using the phrase behind his trademark sneer.

'You didn't ask for her help, she volunteered it as any good leader would,' Sarayah replied, and Sheppard watched the arrogance in him fold for the first time.

'I worked for her?'

'And for Major Sheppard,' she nodded. 'You were part of his team.'

'His _team_? Well, this just keeps getting better!'

'McKay!' Carter warned. Then she addressed Sarayah again. 'What exactly does Major Sheppard's team do?'

The woman shrugged, casting her eyes up to the ceiling. 'They live in the city of the Ancestors and seek trade with other planets. I assume that's their role.'

Bargaining for trade didn't sound like his bag, but the mention of the city made Sheppard think of Daniel up at the observation window above and behind him. He'd be salivating over than snippet of information.

'The City of the Ancestors?' Do you know where that is?' Carter followed up, pen once again poised.

Sarayah hesitated at that point, as if assessing whether she was giving them too much too soon – at least that was how it felt to him. 'I'm sorry...If you're hoping for an address I cannot recall it.'

Sam did her best to hide her disappointment. 'How about the name of this planet we were all trapped on?'

'No...I'm afraid that also eludes me.'

'Convenient,' McKay grunted.

'That's a pity. Maybe it'll come back to you in time,' Carter replied, but her frustration with both McKay and their guest was barely hidden.

Sarayah tilted her head, adopting a serene smile. 'I'm sure it will...It changed...that's all I know.'

'Changed?'

'Atlantis' location. The city came under attack and had to move.'

Carter looked McKay's way, clearly intrigued by that piece of news. 'The city can move?'

'Yes. But I'm not entirely sure how...it was never explained to me.'

'Did you live in the city?' McKay asked.

'No...but I visited for a short time. It floats on the ocean, but I am not sure on which planet it now resides.'

'Did the city have a Stargate?' McKay suddenly asked.

'Yes...of course.'

And suddenly both Carter and McKay were buzzing with excitement. That clearly meant something to them, but something they didn't want to give away to her.

'Well, perhaps more details about the city or the planet it's on will reveal themselves to you,' Carter smiled, flipping though the file of data she'd taken in there with her. It was the same file they'd had at yesterday's meeting. 'So, did your dream give you any clues about how you ended up in Afghanistan at all?'

Sarayah pulled a strange expression, shaking her head. 'Nothing clear. All I remember is I was on that planet in ...discourse with Major Sheppard...or rather Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, and the next moment, Major Sheppard was rescuing me in that terrible place. I believe the Divine One sent me here for some purpose yet to fully reveal itself.'

McKay rolled his eyes again. 'Yeeessss! Of course it did...'

'I believe it is connected to John in some way.' Her eyes locked on Sheppard's now, her next words clearly meant for him rather than the others. 'We seem to be drawn together.'

The desire burning in her eyes now left Sheppard literally speechless, his throat suddenly devoid of the moisture required to make a sound. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for Rodney.

'Really?' McKay harrumphed. 'Well perhaps we should get the pretty boy out of the room and then you might manage to string at least one sensible sentence together!'

'Hey! I was asked to be here!' Sheppard snapped back at him, his embarrassment causing him to lose his cool at last.

'Yeah, well I think we all know we're not getting anywhere with that plan, so perhaps it would be better if you left now so she can stop drooling and concentrate on the important stuff.'

'Or perhaps if you showed her and the rest of us some respect she'd feel more co-operative,' Sheppard spat back, holding on to the arms of his seat for fear he might knock the man on his butt if he let go of them.

'Gentleman...please don't fight.'

It was Sarayah who interceded, not Carter this time. She regarded them both with what looked like genuine amusement. 'John's right, Dr McKay. You really should treat him with more respect because one day he might save your life...in fact, I know he will.'

McKay looked his way with more disdain than anyone had ever been bothered to spew at him, then fell sullenly silent.

'If I could just ask you about the Divine One,' Carter immediately piped up, making the most of McKay's brooding quietness. 'What did it look like?'

'Bright light, powerful...charged...it's hard to describe. Divinity isn't something our meagre language can encompass.'

Carter smiled at her as if she understood, but Sheppard doubted she did. Like McKay, she was a woman of science, and the concept of a deity was probably not one she readily accepted.

'And that light engulfed you?'

'Yes...although not all of me it seems.' She rubbed her bandaged stump longingly, and a hint of a tear glistened in the corner of her eye.

Oddly, both McKay and Carter seemed fascinated by that piece of information, shifting in their seats and both suddenly leaning toward her. 'So you had both hands before the Divine One transported you here?' Carter clarified.

'Yes...the Divine One took it from me.'

At this point Sarayah became visibly upset, tears edging her lids as she battled to hold them in. Though he couldn't confess to liking the woman, Sheppard did feel some empathy for her situation and decided he had to step in. 'Look,' he interrupted, 'maybe Sarayah's not quite as ready to talk as she thought she was. Why don't we give her a little more time to think about things?'

'What?' McKay almost shrieked. 'She's just started to open up to us!'

'No, he has a point,' Carter agreed. 'Besides, she's given us plenty to work on already. Why don't you head back to your room and we'll talk again later if you're feeling up to it. Maybe you would even like another session with Dr Jefferies?'

Sarayah just shrugged at that suggestion. Sheppard didn't get the impression she'd be doing that any time soon.

'Okay, well, thanks for your time, Sarayah. I'll get someone to come take you back to your room,' Carter told her, signalling to her companions that it was time to leave.

'You're kidding...that's it? We're just getting somewhere!' Rodney protested, but Carter shoved him toward the door. 'We need to keep asking questions before she has time to rethink her story.'

'She needs some time to compose herself...let's give her it,' Carter insisted, steering the protesting scientist from the room.

Before Sheppard could leave, Sarayah called to him. 'John...would you walk with me back to my room?'

He froze on the spot, and Carter turned back to look at him. He silently sought her opinion by raising his eyebrows, but she simply said, 'It's your call.'

Since this was the kind of thing he was apparently here for, Sheppard figured he should agree. 'Sure. Let's go.'

Flashing him a broad smile, she swiftly joined him at the door, the two of them heading out along the corridor with the two marines who had been watching the door just behind them.

Feeling the need to say something to ease the palpable tension, Sheppard put his best empathising skills to work. 'This must be very difficult for you...finding yourself hurt and so far from home.'

She smiled again, apparently pleased by his show of concern. 'It is...but having you here helps. I feel I have a friend on my side at last.'

'You know, these people don't mean you any harm, right. They're just interested in finding out how you got here.'

'I know...but sometimes I get the feeling that they're so afraid of the fact they don't understand me, they might be capable of anything to get to the truth. Sometimes they...' Her voice trailed off and she failed to finish that sentence.

'Sometimes they what?' he probed, his mind racing to fill the gaps.

'It doesn't matter. You need to make up your own mind about their intentions.'

Although he doubted Hammond would allow anything bad to happen to her in this facility, Sheppard really didn't know for sure. If global security was potentially at risk, they might be capable of applying a degree of pressure deemed unsuitable in other circumstances. He reassured her in the best way he could. 'Well, even if they plan to frighten you into giving them information, I won't let anything bad happen to you. You trust me, right?'

'Absolutely,' she breathed, her gaze burning into his.

He averted his eyes, worried by what he'd seen there again. He needed to keep a healthy distance between them. This was only friendship, if he could even call it that. In truth, it was just a facsimile of friendship designed to draw her out. He had no intention of staying here and making nice with the woman for a moment longer than he had to, a fact that burdened him with guilt he really didn't need right now.

They reached her room and he stepped aside as she entered, making it clear he didn't plan on going in there with her. She'd asked him to walk with her to her room; this was as far as he intended to go.

She turned to face him, seemingly aware of his reticence to stay. She caught hold of his hand as if to hold him there just a little while longer. 'I'm very glad you're here, John. I've been so lost these past few weeks, but your presence gives me something sure to cling to at last.'

'I'm glad I could help,' he replied, sliding his fingers free and watching as the door was shut between them. He stood a few seconds contemplating her words. The marines at the door were giving him a look that suggested they'd picked up on Sarayah's vibe only too well, and, embarrassed again, he headed off for his own room. Fragments of the interview came back to him, particularly the words, "We seem to be drawn together". Oddly, the more time he spent with the woman, the more he felt that too, even though he wasn't sure he liked the feeling. Their meeting filled him with a sense of something that was meant to be, a kind of destiny he supposed. He pulled himself up short. He didn't believe in any of that crap, so why was getting swept up in it now? He supposed it could just be a reaction to everything that was happening with Nancy, Sarayah's intense interest in him in direct contrast to Nancy's apparent apathy. Was he simply drawn to her because she was capable of giving him the affection and attention he craved? Yeah, he figured that was possible. The woman was practically handing herself to him on a platter, and after months on the front line, the thought of someone caring for him was sorely tempting.

He really needed to get a grip on himself before he did something he regretted.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ew! No, John! Don't even think about it! :O**

**Many thanks to those of you still reading, reviewing and adding me to your alerts. You support is very welcome. :) **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

It was now closing in on 10pm, and McKay ran through the data he'd been provided with once again. Even though his brain continually told him this wasn't possible, he had to admit the energy readings logged at the RPG attack site closely resembled those of an active Stargate. It made no sense, no sense at all, and he said as much for what had to be the fiftieth time in the past couple of hours.

Sam, who was working at a bench nearby, lifted her head. 'Yeah, you already said that McKay. To be honest, when I asked you to come here, I was hoping for a more informed opinion.'

'Well, my informed opinion is that this isn't possible.'

Carter just rolled her eyes, and, shaking her head, got back to her work.

So, McKay watched the recorded data again. Much as he hated to admit it, the power signature registered after the initial explosion was similar, though far more powerful and short-lived than an active Stargate. But even that part did add up if you added time travel into the equation.

He sighed, turning away from his laptop and scanning through the file of information gathered after the initial incident one more time. It made for gruesome reading, and he had to skim the various photographs of injuries for fear of losing his supper. There was eye witness information that pointed toward the appearance of an event horizon, if only briefly, and more corner-of –the –eye- stuff than anything concrete. But though he wasn't a seasoned military man, McKay knew RPGs didn't explode with a bright blue/white light, nor did the rushing sound accompany that explosion of light. But that was exactly what a Stargate did.

He flicked on, coming to photographs of the recovered vehicles. One, a photograph of the second truck in the convoy, struck him as odd, the front seemingly sheared off in a straight, if somewhat aslant line. As far as he knew, RPGs didn't do that either.

'Have you seen this photograph?' he called back to Carter, and a few seconds later he heard her cross the room to join him.

'Yeah, weird huh?' she replied, 'Almost like it was cut off rather than blown up.'

'Did they find any traces of the rest of it?'

'Doesn't say in the reports.'

McKay sat back and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. 'This just doesn't make sense.'

Sam straightened up and planted her hands on her hips. 'You know, I think you may have mentioned that before.'

'Well, it doesn't. For all we know, this could just all be some elaborate hoax so that crazy woman can get her mitts on our flyboy friend.'

'That's ridiculous. Major Sheppard had nothing to do with the Stargate programme prior to her appearance, there would be no reason to simulate a Stargate activation to get closer to him. Besides, how would she even know how to do that?'

'I don't know...I'm just thinking out loud,' he confessed.

'Well don't,' she snapped. 'Not unless you have something useful to say. And it's 'mitt' not 'mitts', she only has one, remember?'

'Huh! So you think she's after him too.'

She sighed. 'I think she's attracted to him, yes. But I don't think that's what all this is about. Look, is there any chance we can just forget the personalities at work here for a moment and just stick to the evidence? If you take Sarayah and Major Sheppard out of the equation, what does the data tell you?'

'That someone somehow opened up a wormhole in Afghanistan,' he conceded.

'Exactly. And that story she told us about the DHD that dialled, but the wormhole didn't connect...don't you think that sounds like what happened to me and Colonel O'Neill in Antarctica? I think the wormhole she travelled through was taking precedence on that planet.' Sam spun the file sitting in front of him round so she could see it more clearly. 'There's no record of any traces of the missing front end of this truck being found, just like there was no trace of Sarayah's severed hand. It's not much of a stretch to imagine they may have been evaporated by an event horizon rather than blown up.'

'I guess not,' he admitted. 'But if she really did come through some kind of wormhole, this opens a serious breach in Earth's defences.'

'Which is why we're so keen to get to the bottom of this.'

'Well, without planet addresses or names, we have no way of verifying anything Sarayah has said so far,' he pointed out, sitting up and stretching out the kinks in his back. He'd been bunched over his work for so long now he figured he'd probably given himself a permanent curvature of the spine.

'And even if we had them, we'd struggle,' she added. 'I believe Sarayah may be from another Galaxy...certainly Medulsa isn't a name any of our contacts is familiar with. We've even run it past both the Tokra and the Asgard, and they've never heard of it.'

'So any address she gives us wouldn't work because it's outside of our galaxy? We need an eight symbol address to access them. That means she could say anything she likes and we wouldn't be able to check it out. She could say they wave a wand and shout 'abracadabrah' to get a wormhole to open and we'd have no way of disproving it.'

'Well...no way other than the laws of physics,' she pointed out.

'I was being figurative.'

Carter gave him a rueful smile. 'And I was being sarcastic.'

'Oh...of course you were...I knew that.' He headed over to the percolator Carter had set up in their lab and poured himself another mind-blowingly strong brew. 'I'm getting tired.'

'So why not call it a night?'

'I don't know...I guess because something about that woman gives me the creeps and I want to find some way of proving she isn't as...mysterious as she seems.'

'Ahhh,' Carter smirked. 'You're scared of her.'

'No not scared!' he protested. Then he backed down, slumping in his seat. 'Okay, yes...maybe just a little. She is very...intense.'

'Hey, guys!'

The sound of Janet announcing her arrival almost made him jump out of his skin, and when he looked at Sam, she was trying to stifle a laugh. He supposed sympathy was too much to expect after the way he'd treated her. 'Are you trying to give me a heart attack,' he gasped, clutching his chest. 'I swear you just took five years off my life.'

'I doubt we're that lucky,' Sam quipped. 'So what are you still doing up?' she asked Janet, ignoring the sour look he threw her.

'I might ask you two the same thing,' Janet pointed out. 'I was waiting for some test results I was running on the shirt Sarayah was wearing when she was picked up in Afghanistan. Analysis shows an attempt was made to clean the shirt prior to the incident when Sarayah lost her hand, but traces of blood were still retrieved – three different types in fact.'

'Blood is notoriously difficult to get rid of,' Sam conceded. 'So what did you find?'

'Well, one of the sources of the blood was Sarayah herself, another source was unidentifiable...and by that I mean it didn't match the DNA of any person or animal held in our databases.'

'So something alien?' McKay asked.

'Quite possibly, unless the sample has been contaminated, and we can't entirely rule that out, though it does look unlikely.'

'And the other source?' Sam asked.

'The other source is Major Sheppard.'

Sam blinked at Janet, and Rodney immediately mentally ran through everything he'd read about the rescue mission. 'Well, Sheppard's statement says he hurt himself looking for her hand. It's quite possible he got some blood on her shirt then.'

'Yes it is, and he did,' Janet agreed. 'I found those samples early in my tests, but this particular result was more interesting. This sample was contaminated with a crude form of soap and diluted, but some identifiable DNA remained. And this shirt has not been cleaned since it was removed from her in Role 3.'

'So he definitely had contact with her before he picked her up on the AH01,' Sam breathed. 'She really has met him before.'

'We should go talk to him...find out his reaction to this,' McKay blurted out, keen to jump on any clue to help them solve this mystery.

'No we should not,' Janet said, her tone as firm as it ever got. 'An hour ago he came to the infirmary complaining of a headache and I sent him to his room with some Tylenol and strict instruction not to show his face again until morning. I don't want him disturbed. This can wait a few hours.'

'She said it was his shirt,' Sam mused, recalling something else from the file. 'When she was asked where she got the shirt from, she said it was his. This places John in this 'City of the Ancestors'. That's why the shirt has that badge.'

'So she _is _from the future?' Fraiser asked?

'Or an alternate reality,' Sam nodded.

'Or he's in on this hoax, too,' McKay suggested. 'Unless it's not a hoax...maybe this is some kind of NID operation.'

'We've already asked, they have no idea who she is, and she's never heard of them.'

'And what about Sheppard – have you asked him?'

Sam and Dr Fraiser looked at one another, and he could see from their expressions Sheppard's validity simply hadn't been questioned.

'Hey...she might be telling the truth that she knows nothing about the NID, but there's no saying he doesn't...and we know now these two have a definite prior connection,' he railed.

'No...no, I'm sure he's legitimate,' Carter said as if trying to convince herself.

'Why, because he's too pretty to be bad?' McKay sneered, a comment driven by a seed of jealousy that had been growing since he'd met the good-looking flyboy.

'Oh, gosh! Am I that easy to read?' Sam gasped, her faked horror turning swiftly to a glare. 'For your information, I was basing my opinion on his personnel record. He's as honest as they come.'

McKay folded his arms over his chest and stood his ground. 'Yeah, well...everyone can be bought for the right price,' he responded.

'Not everyone,' she assured him, her stare losing none of its edge.

Janet looked between the two of them and apparently decided this was a good time to leave. 'Well, I'm exhausted, so now I've given the general and you guys the results of these tests I'm gonna turn in for the night. Maybe you two should do the same...before you strangle each other.'

Janet headed back out and left them to it, McKay finally backing away from the standoff. 'I just think we shouldn't dismiss any possibilities at this point,' he muttered, closing down his computers.

At those words Sam relented, giving a deep sigh. 'I suppose you're right. Now we know they've definitely met before, we have to investigate the circumstances. I'll discuss this with the general and let him decide how to handle it.'

'Good choice.'

Sam returned to her workstation, shut down her laptop and picked up her files, clutching them against her chest as she walked past him. 'Good night, McKay. Try not to get so spooked about Sarayah you can't sleep.'

'Oh, this is absolutely the last time I confide any real feelings to you,' he called after her.

'Is that a promise?' was her quick reply as she headed on out the door.

Alone in the lab, McKay gathered up all his notes and his computer tablet, suddenly feeling the sensation of eyes on him. He checked over his shoulder, but found no one there. He shook himself out of it, jumping down off his stool. 'Well of course there's no one there. She's a kook, not the invisible woman,' he grumbled, setting off for his room and wishing he hadn't decided to drink that last cup of coffee.

oooOOOooo

Locked in her room Sarayah paced. Today had gone well, but with such short periods of contact with Sheppard, winning him over wasn't going to be easy. Still, if she wasn't mistaken, he'd felt something when he'd looked at her today, something other than uncertainty, something more like attraction. Of course, the fact he was still married to that disloyal woman meant he would be hesitant to admit any feelings he might have for her. One thing she'd always admired about Sheppard in their previous encounters was his nobility of spirit. It was the thing that made him stand out from most other men, the thing that had first drawn her to him...that and his physical beauty were an intoxicating combination.

She crossed to her bed and sat down, cursing the day she'd first set eyes on him. He'd cast some kind of spell on her, weakened her will, clouded her thinking, and since then she'd thought of little else. He was an addiction, one she had to eject from her life, and he was so close here, yet just beyond her reach. If she could just talk to him alone, convince him that they were meant to be together...then maybe she could begin to put her plan into action.

She checked herself, looking down at her injured arm. Was she really going to simper and grovel and open her heart to the man who had stolen her hand? More memories came to her, the sight of his skin tearing under the lash of her whip, his absolute defiance throughout the tortures she'd forced him to endure. Oh, to have just a moment of that power over the man again. So yes, yes she could belittle herself for a short while, if the prize to be gained was his pain and defeat.

Voices passed outside her room, and she listened to them, hearing them grow stronger on approach and then pass right on by. She was of no interest to them tonight. They were off analysing her interview, picking apart her words, her body language, looking for clues as to the reality of this city they seemed so interested in. Well, she could string them along for a while with snippets and half-truths, all of which would only come to her if Sheppard was there to sooth her anxieties. Oh yes, she could play the injured and traumatised party for as long as it took to lay her trap and lure John Sheppard in. She could be patient...at least for a while longer. And then she would make sure he never had chance to inflict the grievous injury on her that had left her feeling so incomplete. If she could just get him alone...

A tingling set in along her left arm, from her elbow joint right through to her fingertips. Her heart skipped a beat, her stomach lurched, but she battled to contain her panic. This had occurred twice now, and it had done her no obvious harm. She would allow it to happen, control her fear and see what the result would be.

She watched as first her finger tips, then the full length of her digits broke apart into thousands of tiny spots of light. It worked its way up her arm and then into her body with a rush, her mind suddenly freed of the confines of her body and expanding as if filling the room. But no, it was more than that, she could see beyond the walls of her cell, she could see many rooms, many levels everything that she'd been denied access to before her arrival, including the Ring of the Ancestors. Her body was no more, nothing, non-existent, and yet she was still aware, still conscious of her thoughts, of her condition, of her situation. Then it dawned on her...she was free. She could leave the room, go anywhere she wished to go. And there was only one place she could think of.

She wanted to find Sheppard.

She drifted beyond the room, her mind in so many places at once it left her momentarily confused. Then she saw him, and she let the sight guide her to where she needed to be, there at his side.

She floated into his room, hanging at ceiling level, content for the moment to watch him sleeping in the darkness of his tiny room. But only for a moment, the desire to get closer soon drawing her down from her hiding place to the foot of his bed where she began to rematerialise. Had her need to touch him made her do that?

From where she stood she reached forward and laid her hand gently on his stomach, feeling it shift with his breathing, the warmth of his body permeating through the single blanket covering him. The sensation did little to satiate her appetite for him, a longing to be closer grasping and consuming her as she gazed at his relaxed features. Here, his face cast in shadows, he looked as he had the very first night she'd watched him slumber, down in the underground cell on Medulsa, his fine features highlighted by the moon. In this room only a little jaundiced light seeped in under the door from the corridor, but it was enough for her to see his face, slack with sleep, but still as handsome as he had ever been. Her perceptions felt heightened, her vision, hearing and sense of touch so much more sensitive for her return to normality that she barely needed that illumination to see him.

But still she longed to be closer...

She concentrated on disappearing again, finding it hard, seeking whatever combination of thought and emotions triggered her strange physical reaction. She thought of the Divine One swallowing her, and that seemed to do the trick, the tell-tale tingling in her fingers signalling the breaking apart of her corporeal body her hand disappearing and the energy particles sinking down into Sheppard's body. He stirred, but didn't wake, and she let the reaction take over her, feeling her mind free itself from the shackles of her body and rise above it. Then she directed her energy toward Sheppard's form, sinking in, feeling his body surrounding her, worming her way into his limbs and his mind, taking up residence and relishing the feeling of being at one with him. Her mind drifted to the very first time she'd hunted him down in the dark, pictures forming in her mind...

oooOOOooo

_Sheppard dreamt he could see himself running through a forest_. _It was dark...real dark. Only the moon gave any illumination to his unfamiliar surroundings, and even that was being swallowed up by clouds. Not before he'd got a look at it, the features of its glowing surface very different to the moon he'd spent many hours gazing at as a child, wondering which one of the stars surrounding it was his mom looking down on him. His grandma had told him she was up there, but not in this sky. Here the moon was alien, and the constellations unknown. And still he was running...but running from what? He had no idea, but could see he was barefoot...barefoot and dressed in rough clothing, stopping only briefly to pull thorns from the soles of his feet when the pain seemed to become unbearable. _

_Though he moved with apparent purpose he seemed unsure of his route. And now, with the moon disappearing from view he lost his bearings completely, stumbling, skin scratched and ripped by branches that overhung his path. And time was precious; he had no idea why he felt that so strongly, but the sense of urgency was palpable as he watched himself forge on through his obvious pain and confusion. The feeling was clear to him; someone was pursuing him, and if he didn't keep moving, they might stop him before he completed his mission._

_Ahead, there was a light visible through the thick trunks of the trees – the edge of the woods. He'd made it._

_He watched himself stumble to a stop, shielding himself behind a tree bowl as he looked out across the clearing that sat beyond. It was a village, something straight out of the pages of a middle ages text book. A fire smouldered at the centre of the clearing, its embers now dying and across from it, a light burned in a window, faint light, maybe a candle, certainly nothing brighter. So they had no electricity? A pre-industrial society? Where the hell was he?_

_The desperate desire to make it to that hut and speak to whoever dwelled there washed over him even in his removed position. Something was coming, something he had to warn these villagers about. But he didn't know what it was. Was it whatever or whoever was pursuing him now? _

_A noise startled him, but when his other self checked over his shoulder he was all alone, he could see nothing lurking in the shadows. He returned his attention to the clearing, checking apparently scouting it out, perhaps looking for the best way in. Near his ankles, a strange looking creature hopped out and began foraging. It wasn't a rabbit, though it had a vague resemblance. It was leaner and with coarser fur and shorter ears, and its rear limbs were more in proportion with its front legs than a rabbit's were. The sight of it, along with the unfamiliar terrain and foreign skies left him unnerved, something at the back of his mind, a feint whispering voice telling him this wasn't Earth and he couldn't hide. It sent shivers the full length of his spine._

_As he watched on a flash of light thumped into his other self's back, something full of power and energy. It engulfed him, overwhelming his body and leaving him apparently unconscious before his body even hit the ground._

_The whisper sounded out again, this time a little louder. 'There's nowhere to hide now, John. Nowhere.'_

Sheppard woke up still consumed by the sensation of heat raging through his body. He was scorching hot, his clothes clinging to him with perspiration, his limbs too heavy to lift and his chest too full for him to inflate his lungs and ease his breathlessness. He rolled out of bed and fumbled his way to the door using various items of furniture for support, dragging it open and padding on barefoot down the corridor, swaying from one wall to the other until he reached the nearest washroom and practically fell into it, stumbling his way over to the sinks. Now, he was cold and trembling, the sweat on his skin icy in the air conditioned room. Whatever had caused his temperature to rise was gone and now he was left chilled to the bone.

The memory of the nightmare hung heavily over him, leaving him with a feeling of dread he couldn't shake. He felt pursued...hunted...and the desire to get to the surface, to breathe real, unprocessed air, was so strong he was struggling not to head straight for the elevator and get the hell out of there. His head spun again, and he clung to the sink in front of him to steady himself until the tightness lifted from his chest and the worst of the dizziness passed. It was only then, as his body temperature regulated and his brain steadied itself that he realised he'd stumbled all the way to that room without bothering to dress, his feet now uncomfortably cold on the tiled floor.

After splashing water onto his face to refresh himself, he turned slowly and wobbled his way back to the door and out onto the corridor, thankful no one else was around. A glance at his watch told him it was a little after midnight, still plenty of time for him to try to get some more sleep. Whatever was wrong with him, he felt sure sleep would make it all seem better. His headache was little more than a dull thump at the back of his skull now, nothing like the burgeoning migraine that had forced him to take to his bed earlier in the evening, but still annoying. He supposed the nightmare and the temperature could be lingering effects of yesterday's concussion. Janet had told him not to push himself too hard when she'd released him, so perhaps that morning run hadn't been the wisest of moves. In fact, the look she'd given him when he'd mentioned it at his check-up had told him she thought he'd pushed his luck. So this was just his body's way of telling him to take it easy? Okay, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to listen to it.

The sensation of a breeze on his skin stopped him short of his room, raising all the follicles on his arms. That was weird. They were more than twenty floors underground; where the hell had that draught come from? The feeling that someone was standing at his shoulder made him turn, but the corridor behind him was empty. Dread churned his gut again, and with little else he could do, he trudged on to his quarters and closed the door behind him. Quickly changing into dryer clothes, he stretched out on top of his blanket, unable to get back into his sweat soaked sheets. Yet even in there, clearly alone and with the door closed, he couldn't rid himself of the feeling he was being watched.

It was several hours before fatigue finally claimed him and drew him back to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh, oh! Now that can't be good! Sarayah's got a newfound talent and nobody else knows about it. Thanks for all the reviews so far, and if you're still enjoying the story it would be lovely if you let me know that. :)**

**More to come tomorrow!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When he was declined permission to even go for a stroll outside of the base the following morning, Sheppard knew something in his situation had changed.

Carter came to his room to collect him, explaining that she and Colonel O'Neill needed to talk to him before their interrogations of Sarayah went any further. She seemed friendly enough, but the chemistry between them had shifted just slightly, as if she wasn't quite as sure of him. Had that woman said something to cast doubt on his character? He supposed he would find out soon enough.

When he got to the interview room, he found a somewhat different setup awaiting him. This time, the camera pointing his way was a crazy looking device, shaped like a crescent moon, but black as night. The sight of it reminded him of his nightmare again, the strange moon with the unfamiliar craters pitting its surface. He shucked the memory off and headed to his chair.

'Make yourself as comfortable as you can. We're gonna need you to sit still for a while,' Carter explained, putting a stretchy band around his forehead that held his head in position, careful not to touch his stitches.

'Okaayyy,' he drawled, flinching as she pressed something metal to his temple that caused a sharp pricking sensation, then appeared to be stuck there. 'Owww! What's that?'

'Nothing to worry about,' O'Neill assured him. He was leaning casually back in his seat, arms folded, ankles crossed, like all this was the most natural thing in the world.

'That's easy for you to say. No one's dressing you up like the Karate Kid,' Sheppard quipped, feeling ridiculous.

O'Neill fought the smirk off his face as Carter began to explain the process.

'We need you to keep focusing on this,' she told Sheppard, indicating the eye shape suspended from the top of the crescent. 'Try not to move or it might throw the readings.'

'Is it okay if I blink?'

She smiled and nodded. 'I think we can allow that.'

'So what's with all this stuff?' he asked as she keyed something into a panel at the base of the moon shape. On a screen to his right, a circle appeared, a circle of different colours spinning almost hypnotically. He looked away, fearing a return of the dizziness that had gripped him during the night.

'We need to ask you some questions. This will help us monitor your responses.'

Well, that sounded fairly painless, but he was smart enough to get the gist of what Carter had told him. 'So it's a lie detector?'

'Pretty much,' O'Neill replied.

'Shouldn't you ask my permission before doing something like this?' he pointed out.

'I did say that,' Carter muttered, fiddling with the equipment until she had it just as she wanted i. 'But Colonel O'Neill said it wasn't necessary.'

O'Neill chewed the inside of his mouth a moment, then asked, 'You up for this, Sheppard?'

Sheppard regarded the colonel's now stony expression a moment, then shrugged as best he could. 'Uh, sure...I guess so,' he stammered, pulling at the band around his head to make it sit more comfortably.

'Try not to move that,' Sam immediately responded, so he gripped the arms of his chair to reduce the temptation to tamper with it again. 'Okay, like I said, keep your head still and try not to move in your seat too much,' she reiterated. 'Now, first we're gonna ask you some control questions, just to get a read on your responses and make sure the machine is correctly calibrated. Ready?'

'As I'll ever be,' he called back, his throat dry. He had nothing to worry about, but just being put under this kind of scrutiny made him feel uneasy.

'Could you give us your name please?'

'John Sheppard,' he replied, noticing the colours continuing to spin unaltered from the corner of his eye.

'And what's your occupation?'

'I'm a pilot in the United States Air Force.'

Again, the screen showed no change, and Carter seemed happy with the results. 'Okay, Sir. We're good to go,' she informed the colonel.

O'Neill sat forward, squinting at him. 'Are you absolutely sure you did not know Sarayah prior to the casevac mission you flew in Afghanistan?'

Well, he had to admire the fact the man didn't beat around the bush. But the insinuation made Sheppard uncomfortable all the same. 'Am I in some kind of trouble?' he asked, repeating the fear that had been on his mind since the moment he'd been picked up from his home.

'I dunno. I guess that depends on your answer,' O'Neill countered, giving nothing away.

There was only one way to answer it. 'I'm absolutely sure, Sir. I'd never met the woman before that day.'

O'Neill pinned him with a fierce look from his dark eyes, making his uncomfortable position all the more uneasy. Then, as if someone flipped the channel on his remote, he sat back and relaxed. 'Okay, that's good enough for me.'

From her position behind the equipment, Carter cast her CO an incredulous look. 'Uh, wouldn't you like to check the results, Sir?'

'General Hammond may have asked for us to do this, but I don't need a ...whatever the hell you call that thing to know this man's telling the truth. It's all in the eyes.'

She raised her eyebrows, and from the look of the strained smile she now wore, she wasn't too impressed to hear that. 'Well, I wish you'd told the general that before I'd set up the equipment.'

He arched an eyebrow.

'Sir,' she added, almost by way of an apology.

Apology accepted, O'Neill chose to humour her. 'So, what does the equipment say, Carter?'

'It says his conscious and subconscious memories match,' she admitted. 'And although it's possible to get a false positive result, a false negative is impossible.'

O'Neill gestured with a sharp hand jab toward the device. 'See, I told you I didn't need it. Look, I know we have to go through the motions of proving his innocence with this stuff, that's why Hammond is having us jump through these hoops...all I'm saying is I trust him...gut instinct.'

'Thanks, Sir,' Sheppard said, just glad to have someone on his side.

The colonel shrugged like it was no big deal, but it meant a lot to Sheppard. He'd been feeling lonely and isolated, and his nightmare last night had unnerved him more than he cared to admit. Having someone as influential as O'Neill on his side gave him some comfort after everything that had happened over the past few days.

'Can I ask what's changed?' he pressed. 'Why the sudden need to prove my innocence?'

'Sure,' O'Neill agreed. 'Carter, tell the man.'

Carter looked up from her monitoring duties, and said, 'Your DNA was found on the shirt Sarayah was wearing when you picked her up in Afghanistan.'

He was about to point out that wasn't all that unusual considering the circumstances, when Carter added, 'It was old DNA, contaminated with some form of soap we haven't yet been able to identify.'

He absorbed that information and pondered a while before asking, 'Alien soap?'

'Exactly,' O'Neill snapped. 'You were right, Carter. He's sharp.'

'Well, she did say she was from another planet...'

'And she also said she'd met us before, and this could be evidence she was telling the truth...at least as far as you're concerned,' Carter surmised, straightening up with her hands on her hips.

Sheppard nodded, thinking some more about what he'd just learned. Another question popped into his mind. 'This DNA...what form was it in?'

She frowned. 'Does it matter?'

'I guess not,' he confessed. 'I'm just interested.'

'It was blood,' she told him. 'There was evidence of three different blood types on the shirt all together; Sarayah's, yours, and one yet to be identified.'

'Alien blood?' he asked, seeing the pattern form.

O'Neill smirked. 'Quite probably, yes.'

'Wow,' was all Sheppard could think to say in response.

All the time, to his right, he could see the swirl of colour remaining just the same. He hoped that was what it was supposed to do.

'Just once more for the record, I take it you still have no memory of any encounters with either Sarayah or any other alien life form prior to that pick up?' O'Neill clarified again.

Though it was tempting to solidify his answer with a head shake, Sheppard resisted the urge. 'No, Sir. Definitely not.'

'And you're not working for any government agencies such as the CIA, FBI...NID?'

'Absolutely not.'

The circle kept swirling, grabbing his attention and distracting him. He felt dizzy, the attack of last night suddenly catching up on him again. He closed his eyes and waited for the sensation to pass.

'Sheppard...you all right?'

O'Neill's question made him snap his eyes open, the room still tilting. 'Uh...I'm not sure. I'm feeling kind of...off.'

The colonel was out of his seat and heading his way before he could finish his sentence. 'Carter, can we take all this stuff off of him now?'

'Yes, Sir. I think we've got enough evidence,' she agreed running to catch up with him.

She slipped the band off leaving Sheppard feeling his head was too heavy to hold up. As it fell forward, his body tipped after it, but thankfully Carter and O'Neill were right there to catch him.

'Okay, kid. I think that's our cue to get you back to the infirmary,' O'Neill told him, hoisting him up and loaning himself for support.

'It's not that bad,' he tried to protest, but neither of them were falling for his stoicism.

'Why don't we let Janet be the judge of that?' Carter suggested, wrapping his left arm around her shoulders to take the strain off his weak legs.

'Well...if you insist,' he conceded, lacking the physical strength to refuse even if he wanted to.

oooOOOooo

Having drifted off to sleep under the ever watchful gaze of the infirmary staff, it came as somewhat of a surprise to Sheppard to wake up to the sight of one Dr Rodney McKay shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other at the end of his bed. So he was going to have to endure his company after all?

'Sam told me you were feeling ill and that the way I'd been behaving was adding to an already stressful situation for you...so, if I did make things worse...I guess I'm sorry,' the man mumbled, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than there right at that moment. He appeared to have no idea what to do with his hands, or where to look, and much as Sheppard was tempted to leave him floundering there a while longer to teach him a lesson in manners, he decided to put him out of his painfully obvious misery.

'Then I guess I should accept your apology,' he replied, scratching sleepily at his hair and stifling a yawn.

McKay nodded, looking around at the various pieces of medical monitoring equipment happily beeping and flashing away around them, keeping a notable distance between himself and Sheppard. 'Good...good. So, you feeling okay now?'

'Yeah...I'm good.' Sheppard watched him a while, wondering why he didn't go now he'd delivered his apology, then realised Carter had probably told him to stick around and make nice. 'You know, you don't have to stay if you have somewhere else to be,' he hinted, hoping the scientist would move along.

'No...no, I should probably take a break. I've been working for six hours straight, and I only slept for four hours last night...'

Four hours wasn't much. It sounded like something was on the scientist's mind. 'Problems?'

McKay seemed surprised that Sheppard had shown an interest in his self pity. 'Not problems per se. It's just something I haven't figured out yet.'

'I take it you're talking about the mystery surrounding Sarayah's arrival?'

Apparently encouraged by the way their conversation had shifted, Rodney grabbed the seat beside Sheppard's bed and shifted it a few feet further away from him before sitting down, as if worried he might catch something if he sat too close. 'Yeah, you know, since we proved she's been in contact with you before, and that you have no knowledge of that meeting, I've had to take this whole "alternate universe" thing more seriously. But the data from the RPG site does point toward a 'gate activation and...well...it's just not possible.'

'Why not?'

In true McKay style, something Sheppard already had a pretty good gauge of, the scientist gave a petulant sigh, rolling his eyes. 'Please! I really don't have the time or the patience to go into the intricacies of Stargate physics with a flyboy who doesn't even know pi to the first five decimals!'

Biting his tongue, Sheppard pinned him with a firm look. 'Why do you always do that?'

McKay's jaw dropped and he looked worried. 'Do what?' he asked, eyes darting furtively around the vicinity of where Sheppard was lying without focusing on him at all.

'Assume that everyone else is so much dumber than you they can't understand what you do.'

The scientist smirked as if that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. 'Because they always are!' he scoffed, a crooked smile plastered across his face. Sheppard raised his eyebrows and stared, eventually making the man flush with colour. 'Well, it's true!'

'And continually pointing that out makes you feel good, does it?' Sheppard asked.

Suddenly, the floor proved a fascination to McKay. 'I'm...well, I'm not all that good at the whole people thing.'

Sheppard forced himself to hold in the burst of laughter that line deserved, managing to contain his response to a drawled, 'You don't say?'

'I know it's hard to believe that someone as brilliant as me would struggle with anything, but to be honest, when you spend as much time as I do with your mind submerged in theories and concepts far beyond the understanding of everyone else you're ever likely to meet, conversation and opportunities to practice your social skills are severely limited.'

Much as he found McKay's attitude insultingly superior, Sheppard suddenly realised he felt some empathy with the guy. If whenever he opened his mouth, most people just scratched their heads and said 'Huh?' he supposed that could be endlessly frustrating. So, for some reason, McKay had opted for putting people off the idea of talking to him from the start, thus avoiding any awkward and embarrassing silences. It was a pity really; the guy had a sharp wit, there was no doubting that. All it would take was a little accommodation from both parties to break down those barriers he'd built and make Rodney McKay a more likeable guy.

'My mother always told me every word I used took me one breath closer to death, and I shouldn't waste any of them on idle chit-chat. So, I don't...except that's exactly what I'm doing now...telling you all this stuff you really don't need to know!'

Now, damaging parents was something Sheppard understood only too well. He hadn't spoken to his own father now for four years, not since his wedding day, and the only comment passed then had been that marrying Nancy was the one good decision he'd made in his life. His father thought he was a waster, too, but he knew that wasn't true, and he wouldn't let the likes of Patrick Sheppard convince him otherwise.

'These words...they're not wasted, McKay,' Sheppard told him. 'They're necessary if you're ever gonna make friends. You can't spend your whole life spouting physics or astrophysics or whatever the hell that stuff is you deal in without ever taking time to talk about the small stuff. It's important, too...just in a different way.'

McKay's blue eyes flitted up briefly to meet his before heading back to the floor again. 'Yeah...I guess you're right. But it's not easy to give up old habits...'

'No one's expecting you to change overnight. Just try being a little nicer sometimes...when you remember. I think you'll find other people will respond in kind if you give it a go.'

Still gazing at the concrete beneath his feet, McKay nodded, clearly thinking his words through. 'Yeah...I suppose I could be a little nicer sometimes. Sam gets a lot of what I say...'

'You don't only have to be nice to the smart people, McKay,' Sheppard pointed out. 'Unless there's some particular reason why you want Sam to like you more than anyone else?'

The rush of colour now sending McKay's cheeks and ears a healthy rosy pink told Sheppard he'd hit pretty close to the mark, despite the scientist's protests to the contrary. Oh yes, Rodney McKay most definitely had the hots for a certain Major Samantha Carter.

'I have a very critical nature,' McKay confessed, steering the conversation away from the uncomfortable subject. 'I over analyse everything, and if I see a fault or potential problem with what people are doing, I just have to say something.'

Sheppard shrugged. 'So say it nicely, that's all you have to do.'

McKay's shoulders slumped. 'I guess I have a little too much of my mother in me.'

Sheppard gave him a lop-sided smile. 'Well, we don't get to choose our family, but we do get to choose our friends. You should give people a chance.'

Straightening up and jutting his chin, the scientist gave a sharp nod. 'Yeah, I will. Thanks for the talk, Sheppard. I guess you really are more than just a pretty face.'

Ignoring the jar those words gave his sensitivities, Sheppard offered his hand. 'Any time.'

McKay looked at it, his lip curling at the prospect of contact. 'Do you mind if I don't? It's just that we don't really know what's wrong with you yet, and germs just seem to hone in on me as an easy target.'

Realising he could now add paranoia to the list of McKay's personality traits he was mentally compiling, Sheppard let his hand drop back down on the covers beside him. 'No problem.'

'Well,' McKay announced, slapping his hands on his thighs before pushing up from his seat, 'the mystery of where your girlfriend appeared from isn't gonna answer itself, so I should probably get back to work.'

Now that was one jibe Sheppard wasn't prepared to let slide. 'Girlfriend? Why'd you call her that?'

'Oh, that's right. You don't know about the shirt stuff yet. O'Neill and Jackson asked her for some more information on exactly how she came by your shirt, and she told them she was wearing it because you gave it to her one night when she was feeling cold. Sounds cosy, wouldn't you say?'

'No...just chivalrous,' Sheppard snapped, his own face colouring up now. 'I know that's probably an alien concept to you, Rodney, but maybe I'll teach you about it some time.'

McKay smirked, reacting a little better to the joke than Sheppard had expected him to. 'Well whether "alternate future you" was being chivalrous or not, I think we all know that woman has a thing for you. I practically drowned in her drool yesterday.'

Sheppard just pouted, preferring not to be drawn any further on that matter.

'Okay, well, maybe you could drop by the lab later once they let you out of here, then Sam and I can bring you up to speed on the investigation,' McKay muttered, apparently realising he'd worn out his welcome.

'Sure...catch you later.'

McKay headed off, hands plunged in pockets, but with a little spring in his step now as if their conversation had given his mood a boost.

'Oh, McKay,' Sheppard called after him.

The scientist stopped at the doorway and turned to face him, waiting to hear what he had to say.

'3.14159265.'

McKay blinked at him. 'What?'

'3.14159265. That's pi to eight decimal places. I can go to ten if you like...maybe even twenty, but I get a little fuzzy after that. You want me to write it down for you? Might help with those calculations you need to run.'

For the second time in their conversation, McKay's jaw dropped. 'Er...no...no...I already know it. I'm just surprised you do.'

'Yeah...well...I know a thing or two about math. Like you said, not just a pretty face.'

McKay looked a little shocked, perhaps even bordering on envious, then just nodded with a 'Huh!' and carried on out the door.

Sheppard smirked a while, until what McKay had said about Sarayah popped back into his head. Cosy? That wasn't exactly the feeling he got around her, yet she'd been found wearing his shirt...his shirt which she had apparently washed because it was stained with his blood. When he thought about it that way it didn't sound particularly cosy...really not cosy at all.

oooOOOooo

Back in her room again, Sarayah was feeling confident. Earlier, she'd faced an interview with the colonel and his bespectacled errand boy and had sewn seeds with O'Neill and Jackson suggesting the reason for her having Sheppard's shirt, certain that her story regarding of a romantic connection would make its way to Sheppard before the day was over. Now, she would just wait patiently for him to recover from his earlier bout of illness and get released to his quarters and then...then she might pay him another visit.

Since their time together last night she could barely stand the separation, the intensity of their closeness seared into her memory and now as much a part of her as her own essence. For those few moments she had felt what it was to be John Sheppard, experiencing his trepidation and determination as she'd fed thoughts of one of their encounters into his mind. And he'd obviously experienced them, as he'd clearly felt shaken by the sensations many hours after she'd left his body. She knew...because she'd watched him tossing and turning until sunrise.

O'Neill had questioned her about the shirt for just short of an hour before deciding he wasn't going to get any further with her and returning her to her room. Clearly he'd been thinking he could badger some confession of violence from her as he had continually referred to the blood found still clinging to the fabric, even after her best efforts to get rid it of it back on Guedeseo. For a second or two, she allowed the memory of watching Sheppard strip that wild animal's carcass distract her, the sight of him elbow deep in blood and entrails strangely tempting. Then she shook the image away. She had to stay focused. That time was gone...or rather yet to come. The Sarayah from before that time on Guedeseo might be living the life she missed so much on Medulsa right now, younger, bodily intact and yet to meet the man who would turn her life into chaos. How she envied that version of herself. Her life had been so simple back then, her mind unconsumed by thoughts of crushing the spirit that drove Sheppard on through everything the galaxy could throw at him.

A knock on the door gave her just the briefest of moments to compose herself before it opened and Daniel's head popped around it.

'Uh, hi. I thought you might be hungry by now.' He stepped inside bearing a covered tray from which emanated many appetising aromas.

Forcing on a smile, she nodded. 'I am. Thank you for thinking of me.'

She noted the slightly surprised rise of his eyebrows, but paid it no heed. Admittedly, she hadn't exactly enamoured herself to these people before now, but it was in her best interest to keep them on side now, so she could be sweet to this idiot when it was required.

Daniel strolled over, uncovering the tray and depositing it on her lap for her. Anything difficult to manage had been pre-cut for her, as if she was some kind of incapable child, and though it galled her beyond measure to be treated that way, she resisted the urge to voice her indignation.

'It all looks wonderful, Dr Jackson. My compliments to whoever prepared it.'

'Well, I hope it tastes as good as it looks,' he grinned back at her, and she could feel the enthusiasm for her new more compliant mode simply oozing out of him. 'You know, it's great to have you helping us instead of fighting us, Sarayah. You do realise we mean you no harm now, right?'

'Of course,' she insisted. 'You have to understand, Dr Jackson, that after all the physical trauma I've experienced, and with my memories in shreds, I find it rather difficult to trust people.'

'That's perfectly understandable...and please...call me Daniel.'

Though she felt not an ounce of warmth toward the young man, Sarayah understood that this exchange of first names was an important things to humans of this planet. It had infuriated Sheppard when she'd insisted on calling him John back on Guedeseo, the sense that she was trying to force her way into his inner circle of friends allowed to call him that enraging him and fuelling the desire in her to continue the act.

'Very well...Daniel,' she replied, the name feeling alien as it slipped from her lips. 'It fills me with cheer that you consider me worthy to use that name.'

'Hey, we're all equals here,' he told her, sitting down beside her on the edge of her bed.

The act felt like an intrusion of her space, but again, she plastered on a smile and fed him some more of her uncharacteristic charm. 'That's sweet of you to say so, Daniel, but I think even you would have to admit that some people within these walls are more equal than others.'

'Well...yes...that's true,' he agreed, apparently seeking the best way to explain it to her. 'I don't know how things work where you're from, but here, we do have some people who hold higher rank and have greater responsibilities than others. At the basis of that, the one thing we have to remember is that each and every person here is human, and for that reason, we all deserve to be treated with dignity.'

A charming idea, but one that sounded completely unworkable to her. She supposed that was why they had to carry guns to make people agree to their terms. 'I see.'

'It's a pretty big concept to get your head around over dinner,' he quipped, pointing at the tray. 'Don't worry, you'll get the hang of how we do things around here over time.'

Though she hated his patronising tone, she nodded again, seeing an opportunity to ask, 'Do you ever foresee a time when I'll be allowed to fully integrate with your society?'

That was obviously an awkward question for him to answer, but she had to admit he did admirably well for a feeble minded male. 'Uh, I don't see why not...in time. But I think you're gonna have to be patient on that. There are still a lot of questions we need answers to before we can give you your freedom.'

The suggestion her freedom depended on further compliance, perhaps even revealing the whereabouts of the city Daniel seemed so intrigued by, had little impact on her now. After last night, Sarayah felt certain her future was hers to shape again, perhaps more so than it ever had been before. These grey concrete walls were no longer the prison they were supposed to be, not after last night. Now, she felt certain she could leave this place at any time, but for now, with Sheppard close by and so many minds to torment with promises of information they so desperately needed, she decided she would stay and play here for a while longer...at least until she tired of them all.

'I very much look forward to the day I will get to see your planet, Daniel. I miss the sky...and the sun...'

'Yes...yes, I'm sure you do. I suppose you must miss your friends, too.'

And here he was, fishing for information again. So what was it he wanted to know this time? 'Yes, it is lonely at times,' she said, keeping up the charade to see where he was taking this.

'It seems that you and John were friends where you came from...you know, you helping him when he was injured, and him loaning you his shirt when you were cold. You must miss that level of...camaraderie.'

The way he'd hesitated before saying that final word told her what he was really asking about. He wanted to know exactly how close they'd been. 'Well, I understand it's difficult for him because in this world we haven't even met yet, but it does hurt that he has no feelings for me.'

'Finding out he's married must have come as a shock, too.'

'Yes...yes it was. When I met him, he no longer had a wife.'

'Oh...' Daniel's face fell at that news. 'It might be best of you don't tell him that...'

'No...of course not. I have no desire to hurt him.'

'Good...that's good. So this city John comes from in your world...it was built by the Ancestors?'

So now they were back to his obsessive interest in the city. He really did have a one track mind. 'I believe so...yes.'

'You wouldn't happen to know if it contained a weapon of any kind...something big?'

She shrugged. 'It was a most impressive place, but it also housed many secrets beyond my comprehension. John seemed to understand it better than most. I suppose that would be because of his blood link to the Ancestors.'

Daniel's eyes widened, and he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose to get a better look at her. 'His blood link...you mean he's a direct descendent of the Ancients?'

'I believe so. The link has been lost by many humans over time, but John still possesses a strong connection to them...he could use technologies others simply couldn't activate.' As could Dr McKay, but there was no need to tell Daniel that. She wanted them to keep Sheppard close by; McKay's presence was optional.

'That's interesting...very interesting, Sarayah. I've very much enjoyed talking to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things I need to do, but if you need anything, or if you remember anything else you'd like to tell us, you just let those men outside know.'

'Thank you. I will.'

She watched him leave, the door closing with a solid slam behind him. Alone again, she picked up her fork and began to eat, the food of little interest, but a necessity all the same. That conversation had gone well. Since Daniel had instigated things, it wouldn't look like she was trying to force the issue of her previous connection to Sheppard, or the importance of keeping him around for a while.

As she chewed, she held up her left hand and concentrated, trying to make it disintegrate at will. Closing her eyes to aid her focus, she expected to hear the sound of her fork falling from her grip, but when she dared to look at where her hand had been, the fork had disappeared along with it this time. Now that was an interesting development...and one that could potentially prove very useful.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And with that one little discovery, things just wet from bad to worse! **

**Thanks again for your support. Keep those reviews coming, they're always very much appreciated. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 **

Having been released from the infirmary in the early afternoon and after several more meetings to discuss recent findings, Sheppard was ready to hit the hay early that evening. Despite their talk, McKay had continued to berate and harass his colleagues for every opinion they dared to share, finding holes in every theory they came up with for Sarayah's presence, but after all that disparagement, he couldn't come up with a single "normal" thing that could explain what had happened to her either.

For his part, Sheppard was now leaning toward Teal'c's suggestion that this was some kind of advanced 'gate...not that he understood half of the technobabble Carter and McKay had fired at each other, but what bits he had grasped made it sound like all the clues they had pointed to a Stargate of some construct they'd never seen before. O'Neill had grumbled something about the Russians, but Carter had shot that one down immediately, certain the physics involved was too advanced for even their top scientists to develop. The one thing that had them most disturbed seemed to be the fact she'd come through minus a hand, a hand she claimed the bright light they'd now labelled an event horizon had taken during her passage to their planet.

His head now aching from the effort of thinking things over, Sheppard trudged back to his room and started to gather his things together to get washed up and ready for bed, wondering how many more days he would have to spend at Stargate Command now that Sarayah had told them he had some kind of strong connection to these Ancients Daniel kept mentioning. Dr Fraiser had been most insistent that they couldn't draw any blood to test for anomalies today because of his earlier symptoms, but she was prepared to consider it in the morning, if only to once again validate the information Sarayah was feeding them.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind him caught his attention, his heart first leaping, then sinking at who he found lurking in his doorway.

'Hello, John.'

Sarayah stepped over the threshold and closed the door without waiting for an invitation to come inside.

Sheppard straightened up, still gripping his wash things. 'Uh, hi...should you be here?'

She tilted her head a little, smiling. 'That rather depends on you, don't you think?'

Trying to ignore the way all the hairs on the back of his neck prickled at that insinuation, he replied, 'Actually, I meant I didn't know you were allowed out of your room.'

'Oh...I see.' She moved a few steps closer and it took all his will power not to start reversing up from her. 'Well, apparently the nice people here are willing to accord me a little more freedom now that I've given them what they consider to be useful information.'

'Right.' He set his things down on the nightstand and planted his hands on his hips as he regarded her. 'So...what can I do for you?'

'Nothing. I heard you were feeling unwell earlier, and I wanted to see if you're recovered.'

'Oh, I'm much better now, thanks for asking, although I am a little tired. In fact...I was just about to get ready to call it a night.'

She frowned. 'You seem on edge...is something wrong?'

'No...no really, I'm tired, that's all.'

'Perhaps we could talk, just for a few moments?' she suggested, gesturing toward his bed.

Though he really didn't feel like it, he didn't want to be rude to her either. He was still under instructions to keep her sweet. He supposed giving her five minutes of his time wouldn't hurt.

He sat down, and she joined him, seating herself just a foot or so away from him. 'O'Neill told me they'd found your blood on the shirt I was wearing when you rescued me, old blood predating that time.'

'Yeah...yeah, that's right,' he said, trying his best to maintain eye contact, though the intensity of her gaze made it difficult. 'They told me you found...the other me injured after a struggle with some animal and you helped to dress my wounds.'

She nodded, a slight smile curling her lips. 'That's right.'

'Was I...he...seriously hurt?'

'No...you weren't,' she assured him. 'The beast clawed your leg, but you were well enough to walk after the attack.'

He noticed that though he was referring to the Sheppard she'd know in the third person, she was now classing them as the same person, not something he was too comfortable with considering their supposed relationship.

'Oh...that's good. You know, I –'

'I assume the others told you about our closeness?' she asked. 'I take it that's why you feel so awkward about speaking with me like this.'

Again, he rubbed the back of his neck, unable to look her in the eyes at all this time. 'Uh, yeah...they mentioned that, too,' he admitted, his already poky room now feeling claustrophobically small with her in such close proximity. 'Must be weird for you...you know, me not really knowing you and you...'

'...knowing everything about you?' she finished for him.

Inwardly cringing, Sheppard nodded, peeking up at her.

'I'm not offended. I know this distance is only because you haven't got to know me yet.'

His eyes flew back to hers as he stumbled over his response. 'Well, that's not the only reason. Things are a bit different here –'

'Your wife?' Her expression took on a new sourness at the mention of Nancy, the atmosphere now even more stifling than before.

'Yeah...my wife,' he repeated, hoping she would take the hint and end the conversation there.

Unfortunately, the topic just seemed to make her all the more determined to impress on him the important relationship she and his future self had shared.

'Do not write us off so easily, John. Give it time...I feel certain that if you get to know me, you will want to pick up where we left off.'

He almost didn't want to ask, but some morbid sense of curiosity forced him to voice the question that had been nagging at him since Rodney had first dropped his hint that there was something intimate in both their futures. 'Which is?'

She claimed his mouth in a kiss so sudden and passionate he had no time to react in any way other than to go along with it...and after a few seconds, when he realised what was going on, he found himself reluctant to break free. On his return from his tour of duty, Nancy hadn't as much as stroked his hair or kissed his cheek, but this woman...this woman made him feel alive in a way his relationship with Nancy hadn't for a scarily long time. His yearning for affection left him vulnerable to her advances, and his heart raced as he felt her left hand snake up inside the back of his shirt and pull him closer to her. She pressed into him, her soft body igniting all kinds of reactions that had lain dormant within him for far longer than he wanted to think about. He could barely breathe, she kissed him so long and feverishly, but right at that moment he didn't care if he didn't ever breathe again. This felt too good to end because of a mere lack of oxygen.

Then, out of the blue, that feeling of exhilaration was replaced by something else, a horrible creeping sensation of being hunted, the same one he'd spent the previous night battling after his nightmare. He grabbed hold of Sarayah's upper arms and pushed her back, breaking the exchange.

'I...I can't do this...I'm sorry.'

She leaned back, a frown etched into her forehead. 'You're sorry?'

'I shouldn't have let you do that,' he explained, guilt welling up inside now and swamping the other sensations he'd been experiencing. 'Like I said...I'm married. I'm not looking for anyone else.'

The look of devastation on her face was almost too much to bear. He hadn't meant to hurt her, not after she'd already been through so much. But she'd caught him off guard, and he cursed himself now for never being able to see these things coming. Sarayah wasn't the first woman he'd kissed since marrying Nancy, he'd been caught out under the mistletoe at a couple of Christmas parties, much to his wife's chagrin, but he'd never been a willing participant before, even if he had only allowed himself to be swept up in the exchange for a moment or two. This woman, a woman who quite frankly worried the hell out of him, had moved him in a way he hadn't expected, and now he was...ashamed.

Sarayah rose, but didn't leave, choosing instead to remain glaring down at him, clearly infuriated by his rejection. 'Have it your way, John,' she spat when she eventually found her voice. 'Sit here alone in your room, clinging to the remnants of a marriage you know is already over, stewing in thoughts of your infidelity. I pity you...doomed to always love someone with whom it will never work. I feel your pain, the pain you inflict on yourself over it. But that's you, isn't it? Always doing things you know will hurt because at some level your life is lacking, and pain is the only real thing you can be sure of. You say you're sorry, well so you should be. You'll regret this, John. I promise you...you will regret this.'

She stormed out as he sat on the bed gaping open-mouthed after her, hardly able to believe the tirade she'd unleashed on him. Had he deserved that? Had he encouraged her in some way? When he thought back and realised he hadn't his sense of outrage erupted, and he jumped up and ran out the door to give her a piece of his mind, whether he was meant to be playing nice with her or not. Though it had only been a few seconds since she'd left, she was nowhere in sight.

He looked both ways along the corridor, trying to fathom how she could have moved so fast, but he couldn't work it out. There seemed no way she could have rounded either of the corners before he got to the door, yet the evidence of his own eyes told him she had.

Suddenly losing his impetus, he returned to his room and dropped down on the bed, full stretch and draping his arm across his eyes. Damn, this was a mess. Why the hell had he let that woman into his room? It was obvious now, looking back, that she'd been angling to get him alone for the past two days. Why else would she have wanted to do that? He really had to stop being so naive when it came to women.

Letting his arm fall away and hang down beside the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and tried to get his thoughts in order. Sarayah's words echoed in his head like someone sounding a death knoll for his marriage. He'd thought things were bad, but he'd always hoped he and Nancy would find some way to reconcile their differences. Yet the very fact he would engage in a relationship with Sarayah some time in the future, if that was really where she was from, meant it had failed, because he knew his conscience would never have allowed him to do that unless his marriage had well and truly ended. He just wasn't that kind of man.

Closing his eyes, Sheppard felt a tear slip down his temple onto the pillowcase, and he mentally chastised himself for mourning a marriage that at this point still had some faint ember of life in it. And then he was dealing with the overwhelming need to hear Nancy's voice, to tell her he loved her, to fight for their marriage. Perhaps having Sarayah travel back like this would give him a chance to salvage things between them. Until now, he'd been existing in a state of denial, refusing to accept things would ever really end between them. This was a chance to change things – to fix things if that was still possible.

Tomorrow, he needed to go home. Pulling himself together, he rolled back out of his bed and set off in search of General Hammond. Much as he wanted to help these people, he had to fix things with Nancy first. He just needed a day with her...maybe two, and he could say everything that needed to be said and then he would have done everything in his power to make a difference. If it failed after that, then he supposed it wasn't meant to be, and he would have to let it go.

Just as he reached the stairwell to head to the floor where the general's office was situated, he thought he caught sight of someone from the corner of his eye. When he turned to look, the corridor was empty, but the sense of being watched, of being hunted, remained with him. He pushed on, determined to seek the permission he needed to head home. Tomorrow, he would make Nancy really understand what she meant to him. Tomorrow was make or break time.

oooOOOooo

'_Ever go hunting in the dark, Sheppard?'_

_The question came out of the dark, quite literally, and Sheppard had no idea how to respond to the eerie whisper. Wherever he was it was pitch black and stiflingly hot. Though he couldn't see, he got the sense he was somewhere small and enclosed. Too small and too enclosed. Then he noticed the soreness of his wrists, the pressure of bandages and something more...yep, not surprisingly, when he tried to move his hands apart he found them cuffed together in front of him. Crap, so not only was he being deprived of one of his vital senses, he was also restrained. This did not bode well. But where the hell was he?_

'_No?' the voice answered for him. 'I have...many times. Funny how your eyes grow accustomed to the darkness after a while. Let's make this a challenge; you manage to fight me off until my people come to check on us, I won't put Parhaadon's drugs into you.'_

_Sheppard had no idea who Parhaadon was, or what his or her drugs would do to him, but he got the distinct impression it would be bad. He thought the voice threatening him sounded familiar, but the echo added by the odd acoustics of their environment and the husky whispers distorted it too much to pin down. He squinted into the shadows, but couldn't make anything out, so he backed up a few paces, unsure how much room he had, uncertain whether he would bang into or trip over something if he went much further. His footing felt unsteady, as if he was slightly drunk, the darkness and unfamiliar surroundings doing little to ease the sensation and leaving him rocking in a horribly disconcerting way. He figured this might be another nightmare, but this time he was right there in it, not a passive observer but actually living and breathing the fear for himself._

_A noise just behind him made him bolt, his legs unable to supply the speed required for the move and leaving him stumbling down to one knee. A hand grabbed for his belt but he twisted free, falling backwards into a wall with a resounding metal clang, momentarily stunning his already addled brain cells as he slid down to the ground. And it was ground...he could feel walls around him, hot and metallic, and sensed a roof above his head because he could see no starlight, but down here under his hands as he tried to push himself up was just dry dirt and stones. His head swam, making him weaken and slip down again. Drugs...she'd mentioned drugs. Perhaps he'd already had a dose. Now he thought about it, it did feel like he was coming down off a bad trip._

_Surprisingly, whoever was in there with him held back, giving him time to rise. Apparently she, because the voice was definitely female, was giving him a chance...or enjoying the sport too much to take advantage of his frailty just yet. He pushed himself back up to his feet, his legs trembling with the effort. He was hot, sweating to the point of saturation, his clothes clinging to him with perspiration and his throat devoid of moisture when he swallowed. It felt like he'd been trapped in this tin can for a while, but he had no recollection of it. _

_A faint flicker of a movement made him jump to his left and he heard the resounding clang of metal making contact with metal._

'_Oooh, I'm blunting the needle, pretty one. You don't want me to do that. It'll only hurt more when I do catch you,' the voice purred, taunting him._

_Needle? Jesus! Did that mean this crazy woman had __a syringe in her hand? And had she really called him "pretty one"? He moved back the way he'd come from as he felt rather than saw her move in the direction he'd first tried heading in._

_He got a few paces before the slight movement he could see stopped, and he sensed his pursuer turning his way. 'Honestly, Sheppard. Anyone would think you didn't want to get caught.'_

_Funny as that was comment was, he had no trouble containing his laughter.__ He edged away a few more steps until a piece of compacted sand and earth crunched under his boot, alerting her to his location._

_Feeling a rush of air, then a sharp prick in his arm, he pulled back in the hope of preventing her injecting the syringe's contents into him. The movement tore his skin and he lost his footing, falling to the ground again. Scrambling away, he heard the woman just behind him. She pursued him as he rose, spinning his unsteady form and pushing him hard so he slammed into the wall again. Then she pinned him there, the blunted syringe point just beneath his ear._

'_Oh, that was far too easy, Lieutenant Colonel. Surely you can do better than that?' she droned, sliding her hand up his chest to hold him in place._

_Sarayah? That was the voice, he was certain of that now he'd heard her use that rank. No one else had ever called him that. He was only a major. So was this a dream...a freakishly realistic dream?_

'_Damn right I can!' he heard his voice say, and he stamped down hard on her foot. When she leaned back to free it, he brought his cuffed hands up under her chin, punching her and sending her reeling back into the opposite wall._

_Slipping away into a corner, he listened as she screamed and lunged for the spot he'd just been in, his heart hammering so hard against his ribs he was surprised she couldn't hear it. The clatter of the needle hitting the wall rang out loud and clear again, the scrape of metal on metal setting his teeth on edge. _

_A cry of sheer frustration split the air, jangling his sensitive eardrums. He remained in the corner, squinting into the gloom and capturing only the merest hint of movement from his adversary. She prowled in almost total silence across the ground, and before he caught sight of her again, she was almost on top of him, so close he could hear her breathing. Holding his own breath and taking a long step to the side, he made a quick exit before she could corner him._

_It was clear she was using sound more than sight to follow him, something he realised he could use to his advantage. He bent down, sliding his hands across the dirt floor and finding some of those small stones he'd felt earlier. Grabbing one, he tossed the pebble a few feet away, feeling a rush of air as she passed him en route to the sound. He stuck out a boot and brought her crashing to the ground. She screamed out a few words in some foreign tongue, one he didn't think he'd heard before, then scrambled up again._

_Wondering if he could pull that one off a second time, he sought out another stone and threw it, but she wasn't so forthcoming with her response this time, waiting to see what happened next._

_One more time__ he bent down to reach for another one of the small rocks littering the sandy soil under his feet. This time he wasn't so lucky, and something thudded into the backs of his legs, sending him spilling to the ground with knee-grazing force. Sarayah swiftly wrapped her arm around his neck, and tugged him back, digging her knee into his spine until he was arched painfully back against her. The blunt needle pressed against what small amount of neck she'd left exposed beneath her arm. 'You lose,' she panted in his ear, her breath hot and moist and quivering with anticipation._

'_You have some serious issues, lady,' he heard himself grunt, trying to prise her arm away from his throat. The skin on his neck felt raw without the added pressure, and his restraints were cutting into his wrists, but he refused to stop fighting. 'You need help!' _

_She laughed, the sound making him squirm all the more. 'I think you'll find you're the one in need of help, pretty one,' she pointed out._

'_Stop calling me that!'_

_His stomach lurched as he felt her lips rubbing against his cheek and he struggled harder, finding the position impossibly uncomfortable and difficult to free himself from in his current state. 'But you are so appealing,' she whispered, planting kisses along his jaw line as he strained his head away._

'_Just stick me with the damned needle already...at least that way I might not remember all this!' he growled, panic punching hard in his gut as the hand with the syringe began to work its way down his side, torturing him with its scraping contact._

_She used the point to lift the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his skin painfully slowly. 'Oh, but I want you to remember this, Sheppard,' she told him, her lips pressing to his ear again. 'This is the day I break you.'_

Sheppard woke up wheezing, his chest burning, sweat beading on his forehead and running down his face to soak the neck of his T-shirt. He'd gone to bed a couple of hours ago feeling well, and with the promise he could take those few days he needed to sort things at home, but now...now he felt like he was dying, his lungs painfully constricted and unable to draw in the air he so desperately needed.

He fell out of bed and crawled to the door, clawing his way up to his feet and then stumbling out onto the corridor. Everything around him swam in and out of focus, the corridor doing a crazy dance as he slid along the wall, not even sure where he was headed. He had to find someone, anyone, before he lost consciousness. Of course, it didn't help that every corridor looked the same in this damn bunker. He needed to get to the elevator, to head up to the infirmary, but with all the swaying and blurred vision he managed to completely turn himself around, unable to get his bearings.

He could hear voices...couldn't he? Somewhere off in the distance he was sure he could hear chattering, animated and feisty. The sound of his heart thumping and sending his blood coursing around his body in a rush made it difficult to be sure, his own condition perhaps fooling him into thinking he could hear something he so desperately wanted to be right about. It sounded like Carter...and perhaps McKay.

He headed toward where he thought they were, his legs giving way and letting him crash to his hands and knees. His lungs ached and his chest still burned, his vision fogging to the point he could barely see the end of the corridor, which was now only a few feet away from him. Sheer stubbornness forced him back onto his feet and he staggered forward, the voices a little louder now. He just had to make it to the corner...

Feeling his legs starting to give, Sheppard threw himself forward, straight into the arms of a surprised and very bemused McKay.

'Sheppard...what the hell...?'

If McKay finished that question, Sheppard didn't hear it. He slumped slowly to the floor as the scientist failed to support his weight, rolling onto his back as he continued to gasp for air.

Thankfully, he'd been right to think he'd also heard Carter's voice, and she immediately called for help, crouching beside him and offering softly spoken reassurances as she stroked his damp hair back from his forehead. Knowing he could do no more for himself, he put his life in her hands, losing his grip on consciousness and slipping away to oblivion...

oooOOOooo

McKay followed the gurney as quickly as he could, but that medical team sure as hell could move. As the gurney bearing Sheppard was rushed into a free medical bay, he steadied himself against a cabinet, bent double and wheezing.

'Okay, what do we have?' Dr Fraiser asked, springing into action.

'We just found Major Sheppard wandering the corridors in a state of distress. He lost consciousness about three minutes ago and he appears to be struggling to breathe,' Carter informed her, standing back to let Janet work.

'He's not the only one!' McKay quipped, earning a death glare from the major.

Fraiser listened to the unconscious man's breathing, her expression grave. 'He's certainly not fully inflating his lungs. There doesn't appear to be any signs of an allergic reaction...I'm going to check his airway. We may need to intubate.'

Shuddering at the mere thought of it, McKay watched one of the nurses pass Dr Fraiser a hideously bulky looking contraption, which she then began to insert carefully down the throat of the inert flyboy. He subconsciously shifted his hand to his own neck, feeling sympathy as he gulped down his nerves. This was horrible...riveting, but horrible.

Once the instrument was in place, Dr Fraiser looked into it, drawing back to further advise the medical team. 'I'm not seeing any kind of swelling or obstruction. Let's get a chest x-ray so we can see what's going on in there.'

Withdrawing the laryngoscope, Janet kicked the brakes off the gurney and was about to start wheeling it from the bay down to x-ray when the major took a deep breath. They all stopped and she began to listen to his chest again, pressing her stethoscope to various points on his torso as his colour returned with each inflation of his lungs.

'He's breathing freely again,' Carter gasped. 'What happened?'

'I have absolutely no idea,' Janet confessed, non-plussed as she hung her stethoscope around her neck. 'But at least his oxygen levels are rising. Let's get a mask on him and get him down to x-ray anyway. Maybe that'll shine some light on things.'

The medical team wheeled the bed out past McKay, and Carter remained behind with him, watching them go. 'So I guess we just wait here?' he asked her.

'Poor guy. I'm starting to think it was a mistake bringing him here,' she muttered, wrapping her arms over herself.

'Yeah maybe it was a bit much for him straight after a tour of duty. You know, I get panic attacks like that sometimes...when I get really stressed.'

Carter turned her huge blue eyes on him, full of questions. 'You think that was a panic attack?'

'Well what else? Unless it was a seizure...maybe he has a brain bleed from that crack to the head you say he took the other day. You know, that could well be it. If they're small, they're easy to miss.'

Carter narrowed her eyes as she listened to him, opening her mouth several times as if about to speak, but unable to find an appropriate point to interrupt. Eventually, she held up her hands as if in surrender and he stopped gabbling.

'Perhaps we should leave the diagnosing to the professionals, huh, McKay?'

'Er, yes, yes, we could do that,' he agreed. 'Maybe we should just head to the canteen and get some supper while we wait?'

'McKay, how can you even think of eating at a time like this?' she gasped, her hands shifting to her hips now as she cast him a disappointed frown.

'I'm anxious,' he told her. 'And when I'm anxious I eat.'

She shook her head in disbelief. 'You know what? You go ahead if it'll make you feel better. I'm gonna let General Hammond and the others know what's happened.'

'Or we could do that,' McKay conceded, following her out of the door like an obedient puppy. This being less confrontational was seriously hard work he admitted to himself as he tried to keep up with her long strides. Sheppard had better be right that it would be worth it in the end.

oooOOOooo

Half an hour later, McKay was standing in Fraiser's office along with Sam, Daniel, Teal'c, O'Neill and the general. It seemed like overkill to him, but he'd kept that opinion to himself for now, remembering his chat with the major and figuring it couldn't hurt to try things his way for a while.

Now, they were all silently staring at a light box displaying an image of Major Sheppard's chest cavity, not that he really had any idea why. Thankfully, O'Neill asked the question on his behalf so he didn't have to sound impatient or stupid.

'So what're we looking at, Doc?

'This is Major Sheppard's chest cavity. The x-rays show no obvious reason for the difficulty he was having with his breathing earlier, but there is minor swelling to the outer tissue of both of his lungs, nothing that should have restricted his breathing to the extent we witnessed, but it's there all the same.'

'What could have caused that?' the general asked her, squinting up at the image from the seat he'd taken near her desk.

'Well, my immediate thought was some kind of infection like bronchiolitis or pneumonia, but his blood work's clear for both of those. So I considered an allergic reaction, although there are no allergies listed on his medical record, but again, the symptoms don't really add up. We still have to rule out pleurisy, but I really don't think that's the cause.'

'So what _do_ you think caused it?' Daniel pressed, his stance relaxed as he leaned in the doorway.

'That's the one thing I can't tell you,' she admitted. 'We've run a full battery of tests and I can't identify one thing present in his body that should have caused this reaction. He's perfectly healthy...other than this incident. What I did find, however,' she said, heading to her desk and spinning around her laptop so they could all see the screen, 'is this. You remember Sarayah mentioned that Major Sheppard had a blood link to the Ancestors? Well, there is something quite unusual about his DNA strands now that I've taken a closer look. I'm sending this across to Dr Carson Beckett. He's an expert in genetics, so he may have a better idea what exactly this difference is.'

'Getting back to the x-rays...what are these?' Sam asked, stepping forward and pointing to some white marks straddling the ribs on each side of Sheppard's torso.

'Well, they're yet another mystery,' Dr Fraiser confessed, coming to stand beside her. 'They're lesions, but once again, he has none of the symptoms or signs of the kinds of illness that could cause internal lesions. I have no idea how they got there.'

'That looks like it might be painful. Is it possible they were what was causing his difficulty breathing?' Daniel suggested.

'That's a good question, and I'd say yes if he'd been conscious throughout, but he was still struggling to inflate his lungs even after he'd passed out. If he wasn't conscious of the pain any more, there's no reason his breathing shouldn't have returned to normal immediately.'

Which meant the panic attack theory Rodney had tossed into the mix was unlikely too, something Sam was quick to point out. 'So it was unlikely to be anything psychological...like a panic attack?'

'No, that's not likely.'

'How about a seizure?' Rodney offered, trying one of his other theories in the hope of saving face.

Again, the doctor shook her head. 'I don't think so. His body was showing none of the physical traits. At the moment, we have no clue what caused this. Maybe when he regains consciousness he might be able to shed some light on things and steer us in the right direction.'

From the corner of his eye, Rodney saw Sam do the tell-tale jaw jut she did when she got an idea. She reached up to the x-ray, bringing her fingers in closer to the four lesions on the left side of Sheppard's chest cavity. 'That's odd,' she commented, saying nothing else as she pulled her hand back and stared at the image again.

'What're you thinkin', Carter?' O'Neill asked, once again voicing the question on the tip of everyone's tongues.

'I'm thinking...and I know this sounds insane...but I'm thinking they look like scratches. You know, like fingernail scratches.'

'You're right, that does sound insane!' Rodney sputtered, but even as he said it, he realised the four lines raked down the inside of each side of Sheppard's ribcage did look exactly like fingernail scratches. But that wasn't possible...just like the wormhole in Afghanistan.

'Wow...that's weird!' Daniel breathed, moving in closer to examine the marks. 'Have you ever seen anything like that before?'

'No,' Fraiser replied. 'But that doesn't mean it doesn't exist. In fact, the pattern of marks in certain illnesses can be the giveaway, so I'll do some research and see what I can come up with. Remembering he's just got back from Afghanistan, we have to consider the possibilities this is a disease rarely seen in this country...or that it could be the result of some kind of chemical weaponry with a delayed reaction time.'

'But he's been back for days,' O'Neill pointed out, looking sceptical. 'Shouldn't this have shown up before?'

Fraiser shrugged. 'At this point, I'm not ruling anything out. I'll keep you all posted about what I find.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' Hammond said, getting back to his feet. 'But now it's getting late and since the major is stable and recovering, I think it might be wise if we all call it a night and get some rest, ready to start again tomorrow.'

'Yes, Sir,' O'Neill enthusiastically agreed, the first to break for the door.

McKay hung back a while, still looking at that x-ray until Dr Fraiser turned off the light box and took it down. She looked at him and asked. 'Something on your mind, Dr McKay?'

'Just something I noticed,' he replied, feeling a chill even as he formed the sentence in his mind. 'Those marks...not only do they look like they were done by fingers, but the pattern suggests they were done by one hand on both sides...the left hand.'

Fraiser's jaw dropped, and she seemed lost for words. Her dark brown eyes searched his as if surprised to hear something like that come from such a scientific mind, then she said, 'I'm sure there's some logical explanation for that. Like I said, I'll let you know what I find.'

'Yeah...sure...' he mused, heading for the door now to follow the others out. But he knew exactly what those marks looked like – four parallel lines starting and ending in positions that suggested the slightly clawed fingers of a left hand. He shuddered, knowing that was impossible, but so conscious of their strange prisoner's obsessive interest in the major that he couldn't help thinking she was involved somehow. After all, they were now willing to believe she could somehow appear in Afghanistan in the middle of nowhere without a known Stargate system. Bearing that in mind, was the thought she could somehow inflict internal damage on a man all the records prior to his coming here stated she hated really so unbelievable?

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Eww! Rodney is so close to the truth and doesn't even realise it. :0**

**Thanks for those of you continuing to give your support. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 **

The first thing Sheppard became aware of was a strong clinical smell, and the pressure of something in his nose. Next was the feeling of crisp linen under his hands, cool and smooth against his hot palms, their aroma clean but unperfumed. An attempt to swallow added the sensation of a sore throat, swiftly followed by a stinging sensation in his chest as he took a deeper breath.

He blinked a few times to moisten his eyes before he was able to keep them open, then looked around at the strange room he found himself in. Once again, he was surrounded by medical equipment, and a tentative touch of his nose told him he'd been fitted with a nasal cannula to assist his oxygen levels. Uncomfortable as it was, he couldn't help but be thankful for its presence. He didn't want to feel like he had last night again in a hurry.

Since his mouth tasted like someone had been feeding him used gym socks, he tried to push up and reach over for the glass of water he'd spotted on the nightstand beside him. Moments later, he heard the door open and several hands grasped his upper arms, supporting him as his pillows were plumped and repositioned to support him. When he finally leaned back against them and the pain of moving eased, he found Dr Fraiser holding the glass of water for him.

'Good morning, Major. If you carry on like this I'm going to have to reserve you a bed.'

'Funny,' he croaked, wincing as the word scraped its way out.

'Sore throat?' she asked, giving him a sympathetic smile as she handed him the glass.

He nodded, sipping a small amount from the straw inserted in it.

'That would be my fault,' she confessed. 'I had to take a look down there because we thought your airway was obstructed. The laryngoscope probably caused some bruising. It should subside relatively quickly.'

'I think I can forgive you,' he quipped, and considering the fact he was breathing properly again, he figured he could forgive her for the nasal cannula and the infirmary stay, too. 'So what happened to me?'

'Well, the truth is, we don't know,' she admitted. 'There was no obstruction, no allergic reaction, no virus or infection we can detect, yet your lungs are inflamed and we found lesions on the walls of your chest, so for the moment we're at something of a loss.'

'Lesions? That doesn't sound good!'

'Well, to be frank, it isn't, and I can't find any records of an illness than can cause marks like that. But on the bright side, the lesions weren't deep, so there wasn't much bleeding...certainly not enough to interfere with your breathing. Can you remember how this bout of sickness started?'

Sheppard cast his mind back, remembering the freakish nightmare he'd been experiencing when he woke up choking for air. 'Yeah, I was in bed having a weird dream, and when I woke up I couldn't catch my breath.'

'So, it started while you were asleep?'

'Yeah...I was already breathless by the time I woke up.'

'What were you dreaming about?'

The content of his dream was too embarrassing to share, no doubt triggered by his earlier encounter with Sarayah. He had to think fast to give her a less cringe-worthy account. 'Oh, you know, I was fighting someone and they were getting the better of me...'

His chest was already starting to tighten just thinking about his nightmare. His grimace obviously gave it away, and Fraiser immediately responded by nudging up his IV pain meds.

'Were you feeling anxious during the dream?' she asked once that was done, her face a picture of professional concern.

'Well, someone was attacking me, so...yeah, I was a little worried. Why d'you ask?'

She sighed, folding her arms over her chest and giving him an earnest look. 'I don't want you to take this the wrong way, Major, but Dr McKay suggested some of your symptoms could have been anxiety related yesterday, and although I wasn't convinced then, I'm starting to wonder if he might have a point.'

'If we're asking McKay for medical opinions now, I think I may request a transfer!' he quipped, and she laughed along with him, but he could tell she was still concerned.

'Joking aside, I'm serious, John,' she said, using his first name for added emphasis. 'You're under a lot of strain at the moment, what with the situation with your wife and everything that's happening surrounding Sarayah, and all this after a six month tour of duty. Perhaps you need to take it easier. I'm going to recommend the questioning goes ahead without you from now on, and we'll get you home as soon as I'm confident you're well enough to travel.'

That was music to his ears. All he'd wanted since he'd got here was an excuse to go home, and now he had a legitimate medical reason so he didn't have to feel like he was quitting on them. Then he had a thought.

'Did anyone call my wife to let her know what's happening?'

The slightly pained flash that passed over the doctor's expression told him he wasn't going to like the news even before she gave it to him. 'Yes...yes, I spoke to her myself. I told her you'd been taken ill but that you were stable, and I invited her to come see you.'

He almost didn't want to ask, but he needed to hear how that had gone down. 'So what did she say?'

'She said we should ask you if you wanted her to come over once you woke up because...she had an important meeting she didn't want to miss unless it was vital.'

Feeling like he'd been slapped, Sheppard nodded and swallowed down his upset, chewing on his lip. Sarayah had been right. His marriage was doomed; he didn't even register in Nancy's radar of importance when he was sick any more. He let his head fall flat back against his pillows and stared up at the ceiling, not wanting to see the pity in the doctor's eyes again.

'I promised I'd let her know your decision when you woke up...so what would you like me to tell her?' she asked gently, clearly more than aware of his inner turmoil no matter how hard he was trying to cover it.

'Tell her I'm good...there's no need to put herself to any trouble for me.' The prospect of going home had lost its shine now. What was the point? There was obviously nothing left to talk about other than how soon she wanted him out of there.

'Okay...if you're sure. Now I suggest you get some rest. If your oxygen SATS stay up like they are, I'll remove that cannula soon.'

He felt the pressure of her hand giving his biceps a reassuring squeeze, and then Dr Fraiser was gone and he was alone in the bland and oppressive room. What would do him the world of good was some fresh air and sunshine, he felt certain of that, but he knew he had no chance of getting either today, not with his chest in the state it was in. And he didn't even have his Sudoku books to break the monotony.

He closed his eyes, and suddenly became aware of the sensation that someone was watching him. He snapped them open again and checked the room, but he was definitely alone. Inwardly cursing himself for being so paranoid, he once again tried to sleep, but the feeling instantly returned, and despite his best attempts to ignore it, it continued to grow stronger and more tangible, even manifesting in the sensation of a hand gripping his. He snatched it away, lifting his head to look to his left, seeing nothing other than a few particles of dust his movement had disturbed floating up toward the ceiling. The sense of being hunted that had oppressed his past two nightmares now took a firm grip of him. He didn't dare close his eyes again.

Realising how insane it was to be frightened of his dreams he had to wonder if Dr Fraiser had a point. Was he losing his grip here? Had everything he'd been through and seen in Afghanistan, with Nancy, and now with this strange alien woman, tipped the balance he'd been frantically trying to maintain?

Short of breath again, he forced himself to calm down. He was safe here. He was in an underground military facility filled with scientists and member of the air force, marines and Special Forces – how much safer did he need to get to relax? But in amongst all of these protective forces there was still the fact that things were happening outside of his control; he didn't want to be here, he wanted Nancy to care when she so clearly didn't, and he wanted to get the hell away from Sarayah before she lured him into something he would regret, but his illness meant he was stuck here. Why did it feel like events were conspiring against him?

oooOOOooo

O'Neill and Daniel took up their seats in front of Sarayah once more, the archaeologist determined to mine any and all information about the lost city she had told them of.

This morning, her manner was different again. Gone was the meek, almost apologetic woman of the past few interviews. Now the Sarayah they'd first been introduced to had returned – cold, distant and irritatingly arrogant.

'So here we are again,' she said, leaning back in her seat with a Mona-Lisa smile. 'Time for more of your questions, I suppose?'

O'Neill looked over at Daniel, who was frowning at the woman as if wondering what had happened to the helpful little lady they'd interviewed only yesterday. O'Neill himself felt no surprise at all. He'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the moment Dr Jeckyll had made that unexpected appearance. Now Mr Hyde was back in residence, he suspected they'd had about all the useful information they were going to get from her.

'I hope that doesn't bother you,' Daniel said to her, his tension palpable.

'To be honest, _Daniel_, I'm finding all these questions and your charade of friendship rather tedious,' she told him, twirling a lock of her long dark hair around her left index finger. 'I've already told you everything I remember.'

'Oh, I doubt that,' O'Neill drawled, folding his arms and fixing her with a hard stare. 'I bet we've barely even scraped the surface.'

Sarayah held his gaze, her smile slowly spreading. 'I'm not sure I know what you mean, Colonel.'

He sucked in his cheeks, considering not rising to the bait, but he couldn't resist. 'Sure you do. This is all a game to you, isn't it? How much of what you've told us is true or just what you know we want to hear?'

Daniel shot a sharp look his way. 'Jack?'

'Trust me, Daniel. I know what I'm talking about.'

'But we know she was telling the truth about having met John before. The blood on the shirt proved that,' Daniel reminded him, his brow puckered with confusion.

Sometimes, for an intelligent man, Daniel could be incredibly gullible. Mostly it was kind of endearing, it made Jackson the likeable guy he was, but right now, it just made O'Neill want to slap him upside the head. 'For crying out loud, Daniel. Just because she was telling the truth about that, doesn't mean everything else she's said is right. She's been using us.'

'Me using you!' she scoffed, leaning forward on the table between them now. 'That's rich coming from you, Colonel O'Neill. The only reason I'm here is because you think I possess information that might be of benefit to you. If not, you would have incarcerated me in some kind of mental institution by now...you said so yourself.'

'That threat still stands,' he growled in warning.

'Jack...' Daniel said again, his tone an attempt to placate him.

'Daniel...' He knew the younger man thought he was going too far, but he saw no point in pussyfooting around this woman any longer. Dr Jefferies had been right, she was a sociopath, and she'd led them all a merry dance. It was time for straight talking...on both sides.

'It's all right, Daniel. I don't mind,' Sarayah interrupted before they could get to arguing. 'I prefer to be spoken to without deceit. So far, Colonel O'Neill has been the most direct out of all of you, and I admire his lack of duplicity...as much as I can admire any man.'

Now the look Daniel cast O'Neill was one of utter confusion. So was Daniel thinking what he was thinking? Did that mean she was...batting for the other team?

'I'm sorry...what does that mean...exactly?' Daniel stammered, seeking clarification.

She rolled her eyes, making O'Neill wish there weren't rules against popping prisoners on the nose. 'Men are turgid and dull-witted and lacking in intellectual finesse. That's why I prefer you not to try to mislead me with your pathetic attempts at friendship.'

'And just how much have you misled us?' O'Neill challenged. 'I think you know a lot more about what happened when you lost that hand of yours. So why don't you cut the crap and tell us the truth?'

'The truth? The truth is subject to each person's perception, isn't it?' she smiled, tilting her head a little.

O'Neill bit back what he really wanted to say in response to that, and countered, 'So, putting yourself in my shoes, how misleading have you been?'

'I've told the truth about many things...my name, the City of the Ancestors, my previous connection to Major Carter, Dr McKay...and John.'

O'Neill smirked now. 'Oh, yes...we know you knew Major Sheppard, I'm just not so sure this "relationship" you apparently shared with him was quite as friendly as you made it out to be.'

'I never said we were friends...the intensity of our relationship ran far deeper than that,' she corrected.

Tiring of her words games, O'Neill decided to call her on the gut feeling he'd had about her all along.

'You know what I think?'

She shook her head, smirking.

'I think you're a very smart woman, who thought she was just clever enough to trick us into giving her what she actually wanted...revenge.'

The smile slipped, and beside him, O'Neill could feel Daniel's eyes drilling into him. He turned to meet his friend's questioning gaze.

'What are you talking about? What revenge?'

O'Neill had seen the look in Sarayah's eyes dozens of times. She thought she'd been wronged, and putting the pieces together, the obsessive insistence that John Sheppard had taken her hand, the change of ploy when she thought she might not see him again, the pleas for his presence because he made her feel safe...she'd been playing them, biding her time in the hope of getting to the major.

'How is John, by the way? I do hope he isn't feeling too ill.'

Her eyes bored deep into O'Neill, devoid of any warmth or conscience. O'Neill knew he was right then. They hadn't even told her Sheppard was ill again, and yet she somehow knew.

'What did you do to him?' he demanded, drawing another confused look from his colleague.

'What're you accusing her of, Jack? She didn't go anywhere near John yesterday. She couldn't possibly have hurt him.'

'That's right, Jack. My door was locked all night. How could I possibly have hurt him?' she smiled, batting her eyelids innocently.

O'Neill watched the smug smile spread across her face, balling his fists and fighting back the urge to pound it away again. 'Daniel, if you'd told me ten years ago that I would be travelling to other planets and meeting and fighting aliens on an almost daily basis, I'd have laughed in your face and had you committed. If there's one thing I've learned while I've been doing those things, it's never to underestimate anyone.'

Sarayah's smile now broadened out into a grin, along with a nod of approval. 'Very wise, Jack. That has often been my mistake.'

'I did not give you permission to call me that,' he told her. 'And I never will.'

'I'm sorry. I didn't realised it would bother you so much,_ Jack_,' she said sweetly, making it blatantly obvious that had been her sole intention.

'All right, Missy. I don't know what you're planning next, or what exactly your history with whatever version of Sheppard you know is, but this ends now. We're not playing your games any more. You start giving us something solid we can work with, or I'm gonna recommend the general ships you out of here to the securest lunatic asylum we have on this planet. The choice is yours.'

He stood, and Daniel followed suit, both of them heading for the door, where O'Neill banged on it to let the SFs outside know the meeting was over. Just as they stepped out, Sarayah called to him, 'I thought you'd learned never to underestimate anyone, _Jack.'_

He didn't know what she meant by that, but he wasn't willing to stay there and try to find out either. He'd had just about as much of this woman and her deception as he could stomach. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they got rid of her and got back to the job of hunting for this lost city by other means the better.

The sound of her mocking laughter followed him until the door slammed shut behind them.

oooOOOooo

By the time Carter came to visit him later that afternoon, Sheppard was ready to chew his own arm off through sheer boredom. Thankfully, she'd had the foresight to collect his Sudoku books en route, so at last he had something to help him while away the remaining hours of his incarceration.

He took them from her with his thanks, leafing through to find the first clear puzzle.

'How're you doing?' she asked with a sympathetic smile, perching in the chair beside his bed.

'Oh, you know...' he replied without really answering.

'You look a lot better than you did last night, and Janet says you can get out of bed tomorrow if you continue to improve the way you have so far.'

'That's good news.' He wished he could say more because he could see she felt uncomfortable, but he was still worrying that he might be losing it, a thought that frightened him more than any trip to the front line.

'She's also told the general that you need to go home once she's satisfied you're not likely to suffer a relapse. So you'll have us out of your hair before you know it.'

He looked up from his book, keen to set her right on that. 'Hey, you know you guys have been great, and this place is amazing. Under different circumstances I'd love to stay...'

'Well, be careful what you wish for or we might just get you back here on a 'gate team,' she quipped, giving him a fleeting grin. 'But seriously, I know how hard things have been for you, and I really appreciate the fact you were determined to see this through.'

'Only now I'm sick and have to pull out,' he said, feeling guilty about that for the first time. 'I hope you still get to find out more info on that lost city Daniel's so excited about.'

Sam sighed, scratching her temple. 'Well, I doubt that's likely to happen since Sarayah seems to have gone all silent on us.'

Now that guilty feeling increased ten-fold. That couldn't be a coincidence after he'd rebuffed her advances last night. 'Really, how come?'

'We're not sure, but the colonel kind of called her bluff this morning when it became apparent she wasn't in a helpful mood, and now it seems she probably never had any intention of helping us. It was all just some kind of game.'

He frowned, not sure of her meaning. 'So she's not an alien?' he asked.

'Oh yeah, she's an alien. She's just an alien who likes messing with people's minds. I doubt she really knows anything about the lost city we're looking for; she just saw an opportunity to keep us hanging on her every word.'

'You think this was all just attention-seeking?'

'Well, she wanted someone's attention, that's for sure,' she said, looking a little awkward. 'To tell you the truth, Colonel O'Neill challenged her on her true motives, and although she didn't confess anything specific, I have to say, I think he might have a point.'

He set his book down, giving her his undivided attention. 'Which is?'

'Well, from the moment she woke up at the RPG attack site in Afghanistan, she's been all about you, first angry, then seemingly dependant, then friendly. It's almost like she'd been going through different tactics to ensure she could get close to you.'

The skin on the back of his neck prickled as she said that, confirming that hunted feeling he had whenever he was around Sarayah now. 'Seriously? That's what you think?'

She shrugged again. 'Well, it's one theory.'

'But why would she be so determined to keep me around?'

'That might not be something we can accurately speculate about. You have to remember she's not necessarily responding to anything you've done. It's most likely something your future self has done...if it is your future self she met. That's the theory we're leaning towards because we're pretty sure the elevation in the power signature indicated the kind of surge we see in time travel...or intergalactic travel...or maybe both.'

'Right,' he drawled. 'So, should I be worried?'

'Absolutely not. There's no way she is going to get anywhere near you while you're on this base, and in a few days you're out of here.'

He nodded. 'So you're revoking her permission to move freely around the base?'

Carter's blue eyes fixed him with a confused squint. 'I'm sorry?'

'She told me you'd given her some leeway because she'd been helpful.'

Sam's expression told him something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what, as she quickly fixed her face into a mask of calm. She stood up, approaching his bedside. 'When did she tell you that?'

'Last night, just before I turned in for the night. She came to my room and...actually, it might be my fault that she's not feeling so co-operative today.'

'Really? Why's that?' she asked.

'Well...she...' He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced over at his glass of water, but doubted lubrication would make what he had to say slip out any easier. 'She...made a pass at me...caught me on the back foot...and then I had to tell her I wasn't interested and...well, let's just say she wasn't too happy about it.'

Carter blinked at him, and he could almost hear her brain ticking over as she thought through what he'd said. 'And you say this happened last night?'

'Yeah. It was just after 2100 hours because I'd decided to turn in for the night at that time and I'd just had enough time to collect my wash things before she arrived.'

Again, a momentary flash of troubled emotion flitted across her face, then she composed herself again. 'John, Sarayah hasn't been granted permission to move around this base at any time. She'd been given her evening meal and the empty dishes had been collected by that point, and after that her door stayed locked for the evening. She couldn't have come to see you.'

That caught him like a sucker punch, and for a second or two he doubted his timings...his days...but then realised it didn't make any difference. Carter had said Sarayah never had permission to move about freely. There was no way she's been to his room alone.

'It seemed so real,' he mumbled. 'She walked in and closed the door to give us privacy, sat down on my bed, even...'

He lifted his eyes to Sam's again, hating the way she was looking at him now. 'Even what?'

He shook his head, huffing out a laugh. 'It doesn't matter.'

Sam reached out and sat her hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 'Maybe you dreamed it. Janet told me you said you'd had a nightmare. Perhaps that was just a weird dream, too. And then you got sick right after it and somehow your thoughts have got a little mixed up. It's easily done, especially since you were oxygen deprived at the time. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about.'

'Yeah...nothing to worry about,' he echoed, but he saw the way she looked at him as she suggested he got more rest and left the room. She thought he was cracking up, and right now, he couldn't be certain he wasn't.

He looked down at his lap, at the pile of Sudoku books lying there, and picked the top one up again, leafing through to that first unsolved puzzle he'd found earlier. If he didn't do something to occupy his mind he would drive himself insane thinking and rethinking that imagined meeting with Sarayah, and he really didn't want to think about what his hallucination that she'd kissed him might actually mean. Perhaps he wasn't actually as committed to his marriage as he'd always convinced himself he was. Perhaps his head could be turned by a pretty face and a sad story, at least at a subconscious level. Perhaps Nancy was better off without him.

oooOOOooo

Rodney dragged a hand down over his face as he stared at the simulation playing out over and over again on his screen. No matter what permutations he tried, he simply couldn't override the 'Gates basic safety protocols. There were a few immutable rules of Stargate physics; an event horizon can only open if a connection is made between two Stargates, everything other than video and audio can only pass in one direction through an open wormhole, a wormhole can only be maintained for thirty-eight minutes under its own power, and only whole components can make a journey through an active Stargate.

So, no matter what their data was telling them, McKay could not figure out any way Sarayah could have travelled to a dusty road in Afghanistan and left her hand behind on the other side.

He let out a sigh and trudged over to the percolator he'd set up on a side table, refilling his mug for the sixth time in two hours, trying to keep his mind alert and ticking over. Sam had abandoned him out of some sense of loyalty to the flyboy in the infirmary, but she'd been gone for over an hour now. When she'd said she was going to take him a few things and say 'Hi', he hadn't imagined it would take her anywhere near this long. And much as he hated to admit it, he really needed her input on this because it was driving him nuts.

He turned and stared at his laptop, as if watching the replay of the result from a greater distance might serve to clarify things. Not surprisingly it didn't, but it didn't stop him trying it for a while longer. He was missing something, something right there in front of him, something that when he found it would be so blindingly obvious he would wonder how he'd ever missed it. That was always the way with these things.

Eventually, he conceded the increased distance was doing little for his reasoning skills, so he returned to his workstation, just as Sam returned from her sojourn. 'Oh, hey. Nice of you to stop by!' he snapped, then mentally chided himself because he was supposed to be trying the whole "being nice" thing today.

'I'm sorry I took so long. My visit wasn't as straight forward as I'd hoped it would be,' she told him, sounding genuinely apologetic as she pulled up a seat and watched the simulation run through on his screen again. 'Still not working, huh?'

'No...obviously not,' he said, wincing at the abruptness of his tone. To make up for it, he decided to try some compassion on for size. 'So, Sheppard's not doing so well then?'

'Not really. I mean, physically he's doing fine considering how we found him last night. But he's confused...maybe even delusional. I think his time in Afghanistan may have had a bigger effect on him than any of us realised. Janet's planning to send him home just as soon as he's well enough to travel.'

'I thought we had to have him around to keep the alien whacko happy?'

'Well, it seems that's exactly what she wants us to do, and she's been feeding us lines to ensure we kept him here, but not anymore. Colonel O'Neill chewed her another one about it this morning, and now she's refusing to co-operate again. He thinks she's been playing us all along.'

Rodney leaned in and stopped the distracting display from playing over again on his laptop. 'So what makes you think Sheppard's delusional?' he asked, hopping up onto his seat beside her.

'He told me Sarayah went to his room last night and they got into an argument because she made a pass at him and he turned her down.'

'But she was locked in her room all night, right?'

'Exactly.'

'It's weird,' he mused, mulling it over. 'Sheppard seems like a real smart guy, composed, you know? I wouldn't have put him down as the type to crack under pressure. And those scratches in his chest...'

'Lesions, McKay. No one said they were scratches. And no, I wouldn't have thought he was the type to have a break down...and maybe it isn't as serious as all that...maybe it was just a very vivid dream and he's confused because he's ill. Whatever the reason, I had to go tell Dr Fraiser what he'd said. She needs to know so she can assess his state of mind. We might need to call in Dr Jefferies and have him set up some kind of therapy for him when he gets home. We can't just leave him to deal with that alone.'

'No...no...of course not.' McKay felt a little sick at the thought of what Sheppard might be going through. His own mind was his greatest asset, his prized possession, and the thought of losing control of it terrified him more than anything. He didn't envy anyone facing that prospect.

'You know, he's smart. He has a good head for math.'

Carter smiled at him, apparently pleased that he knew such a detail about the man. 'I know.'

'Of course you do. You read his file,' he muttered, thinking himself silly for telling her something she obviously would already know.

'Actually, I read his Sudoku books...advanced level. His file makes little mention of it. I guess he plays it down.'

'Why would he do that?'

She shrugged. 'Perhaps because he doesn't care. He's a pilot, and according to his record, a good one. Math is a small part of that, but you don't have to be a brilliant. So I guess he just kept that particular talent to himself.'

'Maybe we should get him to look at this problem with the 'gate. He might be able to figure it out,' he suggested with a crooked grin.

Sam again returned his smile. 'I don't think he's that much of a genius, McKay. We'll work this out,' she promised him, turning the laptop toward herself. 'We're just missing something.'

'Yeah, but what? We've tried everything I can think of to override the safety protocols, and nothing works. There's no way she came through a Stargate and left her hand on the other side of the wormhole.'

'No way we know of yet,' Sam corrected. 'But then, there's no way we know of that a wormhole should have been able to open up on the AH01, but it did. This is a different kind of Stargate, and so it works in a different way. We just have to prove it can happen so the president has evidence that Sarayah is who we say she is. Then they might let us keep working with her for longer...if I can stop Colonel O'Neill from sending her to the nearest mental institution.'

'Is that what he's threatening to do?'

'Oh, yeah. Right now, I think he'd happily drive her there himself.'

She tapped away on the laptop keyboard, bringing up the codes related to the passage of whole units through the 'gate. With impressive speed, she isolated the special coding that would prevent the traveller from reassembling on the other side unless they had gone through the 'gate in their entirety, and hurriedly typed in a variation of the instruction to override, suggesting the program should allow a traveller to reassemble if eighty percent of the traveller made it through before the gate shut down, then set it running.

The simulated Stargate program fired up on the screen again, running through various possible eighty percents of the human form that could make it through, the thought of all of which turned his stomach. Missing arms, legs even the head was missing from one, none of them left the person with any kind of physical disability he felt able to cope with. Eventually, the 'gate programme simply decided no configuration was acceptable and refused to override the rule.

'Bang goes another theory!' Rodney sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

'Let's try ninety per cent,' Sam suggested, not willing to give up on it just yet.

Rodney could see the advantages of having a gate that would allow a traveller to reform on the other side of the worm hole if they had only lost one foot or a hand, as in Sarayah's case, rather than have their various atoms spread across the universe. Of course, if an incomplete traveller could make it through a gate alive, so could an enemy, but an enemy minus a part of their anatomy probably wouldn't be in much condition to put up a fight.

Ninety per cent didn't work either, and McKay suggested they should just run the test at ninety-nine per cent, because if it didn't work there, they'd know it was another dead end. So Sam did just that, and once again, the gate programme threw out their request to override the protocol.

Sam ran her hands back through her hair and clasped them behind her neck. 'This is crazy...if we can't even prove the fact she could have come through the wormhole without her hand, how are we supposed to figure out how an event horizon just appeared out of thin air?'

'Maybe she lied,' McKay offered. 'Maybe her hand was cut off just moments before she stepped through the gate.'

'That's the logical conclusion to draw,' Sam conceded, 'but why would she have lied about that. She doesn't even seem to be aware that it was a Stargate she stepped through, so why not say if the hand was lost some other way?'

'Oh, I don't know...because she's a psycho and she lies about everything?' McKay snorted.

'True, but out of everything she's said, that's one of the few things I felt was entirely genuine. I supposed she could be confused...or the 'gate she used doesn't follow the same protocols.'

'So what? Her people are genii and they've figured a way to make a...a portable 'gate that defies all the known rules of Stargate physics?' he laughed.

A change came over Sam's expression, and he knew one of her crazy ideas was forming. 'A portable Stargate?' That would be an incredible invention.'

'Incredible and_ impossible_.'

'Not necessarily...maybe there is a way... I mean, if there was some way of extending the field of the event horizon to demolecularise the 'gate itself, so it can be reformed when required. All you would need is some kind of handheld DHD and a power source.'

He gaped at her, unsure that he could keep up the Mr Nice Guy act any longer. 'Demolecularise the 'gate itself?'

'Yeah...it's not impossible...not theoretically. With an additional buffer just to store the 'gate's form, that part could be activated first before dialling an address.'

'Oh, well if we're just talking theoretically, why don't we just see if we can make the Statue of Liberty disappear while we're at it.'

She fixed him with a hard stare, those big blue eyes of hers drilling into him as if trying to impress the importance of what she was saying on him.

'I'm not saying this is anything easy. But if Sarayah's people are advanced compared to us, they may have had a lot of time to figure this out.'

'Advanced compared to us?' he echoed, pointing between the two of them.

Sam just rolled her eyes. 'Much as it may dent your ego to consider that, it is possible, McKay. They could, in theory, have a 'gate that can materialise out of seemingly nowhere.'

'Except like you said...she doesn't even seem to know she came through a Stargate. She calls it the Divine One, remember? Doesn't exactly shout advanced civilisation, does it? And where's this magical device that controls it? It wasn't found at the RPG attack or we'd know about it.'

'Maybe she was holding it in her right hand,' Sam fired at him.

'Well, how convenient. Oh, and did I mention that Divine One thing?'

Sam pouted as she thought, driving him just a little crazy with that sexy look, then nodded. 'Okay, so the 'gate wasn't something her people designed, but that doesn't mean someone hasn't had the means and intelligence to create it...perhaps even the Ancients...we don't know they're not still out there somewhere. Maybe the people on this planet we were all stranded on got hold of an experimental Stargate and didn't know what they were getting into.'

He laughed, shaking his head. 'So now you're telling me you think some bunch of backwoods men who don't know their Einsteins from their Dr Seuss' broke into some ancient facility and took an experimental Stargate?'

Sam pushed up from her seat and paced up and down the lab a moment, hands on hips. 'We're still missing something. There has to be an obvious explanation for this, and I'm sure there's some kind of advanced 'gate at the root of it.'

'But how would it power up?' he asked her. 'I mean, don't get me wrong, the idea would be fantastic, but it takes a lot of energy to power a Stargate. The 'gate might be portable, but the power source...' he stopped, then began frenetically clicking his fingers. 'Unless it draws its power from the environment in some way...which would explain the solar flare that sent it here.'

A smile broke out on Sam's face now, as if she thought they might be onto something. 'Yeah, there are all kinds of natural power sources it could tap into on most planets – uranium deposits, volcanic forces, or solar flares...'

She stopped, and McKay knew she'd just made some kind of amazing realisation. 'What?' he asked, waiting for her to share.

'All this stuff would be highly experimental to us, right?' she said, returning to her seat and typing in some commands to the laptop.

'Yesss,' he drawled, not yet seeing her point.

'And we've been assuming the people who made it knew what they were doing.'

'If they did it at all...we _are_ just speculating!'

She flashed him an irritated look, then continued to type. 'Let's just say it's what happened in the hopes of moving this investigation along,' she suggested.

'Okay.'

'But what if they didn't know what they were doing? What if they couldn't get it to work properly and someone mistakenly activated it. And Sarayah did say when we went to this planet she was on we couldn't dial out.'

He nodded, still waiting for the "Eureka!" moment. 'Yeah, she did.'

'So let's run with the theory that this 'gate had taken precedence. If it was experimental, and they never got it to work properly, perhaps no safety protocols had to be overridden to get her through minus her hand.' All the time she kept typing in her scenario, reprogramming the 'gate simulation with new characteristics and new parameters. Finally, she seemed satisfied with her work and turned the laptop to face Rodney. 'Maybe the project was still in the development stage when it was somehow activated and no safety protocols had been programmed into it. If power to the gate failed...maybe because the energy from the solar flare was so immense it fried the system for example, and somehow the buffers stored what had passed up until that point rather than losing it, she might just make it through.'

McKay watched as the simulation played out. A figure passed through the gate, arm outstretched , and just as it passed through the shimmering pool of light it shut down, severing the hand. The message, 'CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM FAILURE' flashed, and all remaining power diverted to the buffers, storing the traveller and the image of what had passed through, but unable to calculate that the unit was incomplete. The traveller was suspended in some kind of stasis, held in that dematerialised state even though it was incomplete.

'Oh my God! It worked...you got it to work!' he squeaked, excited to finally have an answer, even if he hadn't found it himself. Nothing irritated him more than an unsolved puzzle. Then he composed himself. 'Nice work...now we just have to convince everyone that all those suppositions are the most likely scenario of what happened to Sarayah.'

She nodded, watching the simulation play out again and produce the same result. 'Piece of cake,' she replied, but the wideness of her eyes and the slight quaver in her voice told him she wasn't convinced of that fact.

They had to find a way to prove this. This was no longer just about keeping Sarayah around to help them find the lost city. If an experimental 'gate existed somewhere in the universe, faulty or not, they had to get to it before anyone else could.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So now it's a question of who's going to the mental hospital first. We all know who it should be, but she has people thinking Sheppard's losing it instead!**

**Thanks again to all my wonderful reviewers for their support so far. If I haven't replied to you directly, it's simply because I can't. This site only allows me to respond to reviews via Direct Messaging now, so if yourusers settings don't allow that, I can't get my thanks through to you, I'm afraid!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_Sheppard had no idea who was grabbing him and forcing him to get up, only that he wanted them to stop. He felt like he'd been kicked in the family jewels and just wanted to curl up and wait until the pain went away. Why wouldn't these people just leave him alone? All he needed was time to get over it. Couldn't they grant him that much leeway?_

_They dropped him face down on a cold, hard surface, the rocky ground scraping against his cheek. Rock? Where the hell was he? The last thing he remembered was feeling sleepy in the isolation room back at Stargate Command..._

_Someone shoved the toe of their boot under his ribs and rolled him onto his back. Blinking away stinging tears from his eyes he saw Sarayah standing over him, along with a few other faces he didn't recognise. She dropped her booted foot on his chest and leaned forward until the pressure increased enough to make breathing difficult, a sensation far too familiar after the other night. She had a graze on her left cheekbone and a cut on her lip; it looked like she'd been fighting. _

'_I take it from the fact you're running you know we have you beaten, Sheppard,' she smirked, dabbing blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Well, I hope you enjoyed that momentary glimpse of freedom, because it will be your last. Restraints.'_

_Running? Freedom? Restraints? What the he...? Then he realised he had to be dreaming. He was dreaming again and this was yet another nightmare. So he would wake up soon...he hoped._

_She moved away and the pressure on his lungs eased, allowing him to regain his breath. That had felt pretty damned real for a dream, especially after his recent bout of illness. Three people, two men and a woman, moved in to drag him up to his feet and over to a post in the middle of...was this a cave? Yes, it looked like one, a cave filled with crates and equipment, and with screened off areas perhaps for privacy. His face slammed into the rough bark of the post, and restraints were clipped around his wrists, wrists already bandaged because of injury by the looks of it. There were definite brown stains on them, suggesting old, dried up blood. Man, he was putting way too much detail into this nightmare. Wasn't it bad enough already? His arms were hoisted up so high above him he had to stand on his toes to stay in contact with the floor. It left him feeling unbalanced , and then, to add to his discomfort, Sarayah caught hold of his hair and tugged his head back to speak to him._

'_Now, you be a good boy and tell us where we can find Atlantis, and this will all be over very quickly.'_

_The feel of her breath on his ear set his skin crawling, so he jerked his head free, feeling some hair tugged out at the roots. Atlantis? The badge on the shirt...it had said Atlantis. And Sarayah had suggested he lived in that city...at least his future self did. So she didn't know the address? Then he corrected himself. This was all in his head. She didn't know the address because he didn't know the address. He couldn't imagine something he didn't know._

_She'd let go and moved away, the cave now silent around him. Everyone there was quiet, too quiet, like the proverbial calm before the storm. And then he heard something, a rushing sound slicing the air behind him._

_Craacckk!_

_Sheppard couldn't figure out what had just happened. Something or rather things, had hit his back simultaneously, thudding against his shirt and winding him. Then a slight stinging began, building steadily into a burning sensation that wouldn't quit._

_One of the men and the woman who had tethered him there were stood in front of him, their faces fixed into emotionless masks, giving him no clue as to what had happened. So he turned to look for himself, seeing Sarayah a few yards behind him, right arm raised and in her hand she grasped what looked like a cat-o-nine tails. He only just tuned his face back away in time to protect it as she lashed him again, the knotted strips of leather smacking against his back and neck._

_Craacckk!_

_That second blow hurt more than the first and brought tears to his eyes. He screwed them tight shut and pressed his lips together to hold back a scream. Something told him screaming would be bad. Screaming would simply fuel her desire to hurt him more. He could feel it...he could actually feel her excitement._

_Craaacckkk! The sensation of his flesh ripping under the abuse snapped Sheppard out of his concentration. He hung on to the cry poised to break free this time, a tear slipping down his cheek and dripping from his chin as he panted against the pain. A male voice called to him from nearby._

'_Do you really intend to take more of this punishment? Just give us the address!'_

_What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he punishing himself like this? This was a dream, so he could just wake up and end this, couldn't he? No, apparently not, he realised when he tried and failed to surface. But he couldn't give them any kind of address. For one, he had no idea where this Atlantis was, and for another he didn't know what any of the symbols were called anyway. So he did what he had been trained to do when interrogated and under duress. 'My name is –'_

'_Do not do this!' the man shouted._

'—_John Sheppard, Lieu...Lieutenant –' Lieutenant Colonel? Was that really what he was going to call himself. But it felt right, even though he'd not risen to that rank it felt right here...now...in this situation. He couldn't say anything else._

'_Stop for your own sake!' the man pleaded._

_Craaaccckkk!_

' – _Colonel!' That word came out as a scream as the knotted strips lacerated his back again. 'Sonofabitch!...United States Air Force –' He could barely get his breath now, each inflation of his lungs feeling as if it tore his skin even more. He'd never endured a whipping before, hadn't known what it would feel like, but he'd never imagined it could be anything like this torturous. What kind of a person could do this to someone else without the slightest hint of hesitation?What kind of a person would dream of this happening to themselves?_

_Craaaccckkk!_

_He dropped his forehead against the thick trunk he was tied to, unable to finish what he'd been trying to say. But Sarayah clearly felt no sympathy or remorse. Behind him, the tell-tale sound of the air parting heralded yet another lash._

_Craaacckk!_

_He screamed into his chest, as quietly as he could, but still louder than he'd wanted to. He could picture the smile now splitting her face. How could she be this cruel? What had he ever done to her? _You ruined my life!_ A whisper told him._

_Craaaccckk!_

'_Stop!' Sheppard gasped, but only loud enough for himself to hear. In all honesty, he wanted to scream it, but knew it would do no good. He'd met people like her before, people who got off on the pain of others. She wanted him to beg her to stop, he could actually hear her saying it inside his head. Well, he wouldn't give her the pleasure, not even in a dream._

'_Sheppard...please...' that same male voice pleaded with him. 'No one would expect you to put up with this much.'_

I do_,__ he thought, and that was true. He expected nothing less of himself. If questioned by the enemy, tortured rather, he would give them nothing more than his name, rank and serial number._

'_Tell us the symbols for Atlantis!' the man practically begged. It seemed as if his upset was genuine, the sight of his shredded back maybe too much for him to handle, especially knowing he played some part in it._

_He reminded himself that this was his dream, that these people were all figments of his imagination as so probably just represented different facets of his psyche. Some psychologist was going to have a field day picking all this apart. And still he couldn't wake up, so he continued with the routine. 'My name...is John...Sheppard,' he panted. 'Lieutenant Colonel United...States Air Force, 163-23 –'_

_Craaaccck!_

_This was sickeningly real. He'd actually felt his skin tearing under the force that time. He was sure as hell booking that psych evaluation as soon as he got home. _

_Craaaccckk!_

_He knew he'd be tempted to tell them the address so he could end this now, and at some level felt relieved that he didn't really know it, whether this was a dream or not. No one could force him to hand over something he didn't know...although...the more lashes he received, the more 'gate symbols started forming in his head. Were they part of the address or was his brain just firing random images his way?_

_Craaaccckk!_

_His whole body jerked at the contact this time and he felt his strength abandon him, his legs buckling and the shackles carving into the skin on his wrists despite the bandages. He practically ordered his brain to wake him up, but apparently it wasn't listening, because he remained hanging there, his back pulsing and bleeding, his wrists joining in the nauseating rhythm, and his vision greying as if he was passing out. Passing out was good; maybe that would eject him from this nightmare. _

'_Give us the symbols.'_

_Sarayah's voice grated his jangled nerves and brought him round again. But he wanted to pass out...needed to pass out. Why wouldn't she just leave him alone? Why wouldn't he give himself a break?_

'_My name is...John Sheppard, Lieu –'_

_Cracck!_

_No more...he couldn't do this any more..._

'_John.'_

_The voice was different this time, different but familiar. He looked around for the source finally finding Dr Fraiser standing between him and Sarayah, the alien's face furious at the interruption. 'No...I'm not finished yet!'_

'_John,' Dr Fraiser said again, seemingly oblivious of her surroundings and the fact she was directly in the line of fire as Sarayah raised her arm again._

'_Look out!' he gasped, but he wasn't fast enough._

_The whip cracked, splitting the scene and revealing something else beyond..._

'John...are you all right?'

He realised the split was actually his lids parting, and this time he could see Dr Fraiser for real, leaning over him and gripping his arm. Between them, dust particles sparkled in the air, floating up toward the ceiling again...the second time he'd noticed them. This place really needed a good clean up.

'It's okay, Major. You're still with us at the SGC. You're safe.'

He nodded to show he understood, for the moment unable to talk. He flexed his shoulders, feeling a residual burn between his shoulder blades, but it dissipated almost as quickly as he'd realised he could feel it. _Just a dream_, he told himself again, wondering who he was trying to convince.

'Did you have another nightmare?' the doctor asked him, and for a brief, confused second he thought she might have read his thoughts. Then he considered all the clues, the fact he'd been asleep, no doubt restless and perhaps even calling out, and figured she didn't need to be any kind of freaky mind reader to work it out.

'Yeah,' he confessed, pushing himself up straighter. This morning, the pain in his chest had decreased a little more, and the movement didn't take as much out of him as it had on waking yesterday. That was a relief, instantly cheering him with the thought he could soon be out of there.

'Wanna talk about it?' Fraiser asked him.

He looked into her warm, brown eyes, seeing nothing but compassion there, but still he couldn't find it in himself to open up to her. She didn't need to hear the products of his twisted mind. 'No...I'm good.'

'Hmmm.' She snatched up his wrist and took his pulse, which by now had settled into a more normal beat. 'There's a stock answer if ever I heard one. I brought you some breakfast.' The doctor dipped her head toward his nightstand and he saw the tray sitting there with various foodstuffs, none of which appealed right at that moment.

'Yeah. I'll get to it soon,' he told her, hoping that would placate her.

'Well, you better had, because if you can't eat breakfast then I'm gonna have to tell the general you can't make the meeting they invited you to this morning.'

'A meeting? With Sarayah?' He hated the panic in his tone as he asked, but he needed to know. If it involved her, he wasn't sure he wanted to accept the invitation anyway.

'Actually, it's about Sarayah, not with her. And the only reason I'm even considering letting you go is that I'm gonna be there too, keeping an eye on you.'

He hoped his relieved sigh wasn't too audible. Now a meeting about Sarayah he could deal with, especially if it gave him an opportunity to get out of this room. 'I didn't think they'd want me there since you've said I have to drop out.'

'Well, since you're still here, they would value your input. You might have picked up more information than you think.'

'In that case, I'd better get eating.'

She passed him his tray and he did his best to tuck in with enthusiasm. To be honest, he didn't feel hungry after his nightmare, the pain and desperation still a little too clear in his memory for comfort.

'I'll get someone to bring your clothes in for you. I was going to suggest you got up and about today anyway, but if the meeting proves too much, I want you to tell me right away. Understood?'

'Absolutely,' he agreed, giving her a full cheeked smile.

When she'd gone he allowed the smile to slip from his face, staring down at the toast and cereal in front of him with a sigh. He really didn't want to eat it, but his innate sense of curiosity meant he really wanted to be at that meeting to find out what the others had figured out. So he would force it down...at least the majority of it, and then he'd be allowed to go to the party with the cool kids.

oooOOOooo

Two hours later, he was in the conference room awaiting the arrival of General Hammond with the team he'd come to understand was named SG-1, Dr Fraiser and a very impatient Dr McKay.

The general thankfully didn't keep them waiting too long, bustling in with a quick apology, and immediately getting to the point. 'All right people. I've just got off the telephone to the president and I have assured him we will have evidence that Sarayah is more likely than not an alien and can help us find this legendary lost city before tomorrow evening or I have instructions to pass her on to the mental health services. Please tell me we'll have something concrete by then.'

'Er, how about something more malleable...like Jell-O?' McKay huffed.

'Not good enough,' the general responded without a hint of humour. 'What have we got?'

Daniel spoke up first. 'Well, one thing we can say for certain is that she writes in a language no one else on this planet uses, and it's definitely a derivative of Ancient, so that has to count for something.'

Hammond nodded. 'That it does, Dr Jackson. Whether it'll be enough cause for us to hold her is doubtful though.'

'Especially since Ancient itself is a root of Latin,' Carter pointed out. 'Since we have no evidence of anyone else using this as a form of communication, it could all be part of an elaborate hoax. She could have just devised it herself from what we know of Ancient Latin.'

'Well, it's possible...but why would she bother?' Daniel asked.

'Because she likes screwing with peoples' heads,' O'Neill grunted, drumming his pen on the table top as he rocked in his seat, clearly irritated by the subject matter. Everyone looked at him, waiting for more. 'I'm not saying I think that's what she did, but let's face it, it's a helluva lot more believable than saying she appeared in the middle of Afghanistan from another planet.'

'Major Carter, have you and Dr McKay come up with any theories on how she got here?' Hammond asked hopefully.

Carter and McKay rose from their seats, heading to the end of the room to the left of the general's seat and setting their equipment running. 'Well, Sir, as I said before, the power signatures picked up at the site of the RPG attack were definitely reminiscent of the activation of a Stargate. However, the energy levels were erratic and short-lived, unlike the stable wormhole formed by our own 'gate, in fact, the actual moment of connection was so brief it's amazing Sarayah made it through at all.'

'Amazing...or unfortunate?' O'Neill piped up, and Sheppard couldn't help but be intrigued by his attitude. The colonel had never declared himself a fan of the woman, but now he was practically oozing with untempered animosity.

'I guess that depends on whether she's fixated on you or not,' McKay quipped.

And now everyone, including Sheppard, was glaring at McKay. The scientist's shoulders slumped a little. 'I'm just saying I'm glad it's not me.'

'Sheppard, you have my permission to shoot him if you feel the urge,' O'Neill told him, and it wasn't too clear if he'd moved into joke-mode or not.

'So you're convinced this was some kind of wormhole activity?' the general clarified, bringing them back on track.

'It appears so,' McKay told him, seemingly happy for an excuse to change the subject. 'And one that behaves in much the same way as the event horizon generated by our Stargate. If you'll look at these photographs taken at the scene where Sarayah was found...'

He set a slide show of pictures running, some of the truck Sheppard recognised as being the second in the convoy, the one he had found Sarayah lying beside. Then a couple of others, showing large rocks sitting near it that had been dissected , their surfaces left smooth and glassy, exposed to the desert environment which would eventually return them to their previous state over many years.

'We believe these things weren't destroyed by an RPG...they were evaporated by an event horizon. In fact, Major Carter and I were able to simulate the exact same effect on some rocks we had picked up from the Colorado Desert.' He hefted a crate up from the floor and dropped it next to Daniel on the long board table, who reached in and pulled out the two substantial rocks inside, handing one over to O'Neill and Teal'c and the other to the general.

Eventually, Sheppard got an opportunity to examine a rock for himself. He was no geologist, but he knew it would take a tremendous amount of heat to melt something that solid. There was no way an RPG could do anything similar, and these looked exactly like what they'd seen in the photographs.

'But what about what Sarayah said about losing her hand as she came through? We know that's not possible,' Daniel pointed out, taking the rock back from Sheppard and turning it over in his hands, clearly fascinated by its form.

'It's true that one of the immutable laws of Stargate travel is that a component must enter the system in its entirety in order to complete the journey. A traveller is scanned on entry and their image is stored in the buffers and forwarded on to the destination Stargate in order for the demolecularised form to be reassembled according to the template. The Stargate simply can't recreate something if all the molecules don't make the journey...it can't judge which cells are missing, just that some are and therefore the template would be incomplete. It's an important safety protocol really, or we could all end up looking like scrambled egg on the other side,' McKay surmised, adding a crooked smile.

Sheppard grimaced. He doubted he would ever look at a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs without that image popping into his mind again.

'But whatever Stargate Sarayah arrived through, we know it wasn't like ours,' Carter continued from where McKay had left off. 'There is no established 'gate where she appeared, this power signature simply appeared out of nowhere and disappeared in just the same way. We think –' McKay threw her a questioning look, and she immediately corrected herself. 'That is, I think what we might be dealing with here is some kind of experimental Stargate, one that can be activated anywhere, on demand.'

'On demand?' O'Neill arched an eyebrow. 'That's a big jump from the huge, pretty much indestructible lump of 'gate we're using.'

'Actually, Sir, in theory it's not that big a jump at all. All we would need to do is extend the demolecularisation effect of the wormhole itself to include the actual physical gate, then find a portable method to store and power it.'

He stared back at her, his expression unreadable. 'Oh...is that all.'

'I'm not saying it's something we would find easy to do, Sir. It would take years of work to find a way to safely instigate those changes, but if the original 'gate builders were the ones who did this...'

'You think the Ancients were working on a different kind of Stargate?' Daniel asked, suddenly brimming with enthusiasm.

'Were or are,' Carter replied. 'There's a possibility they still exist somewhere out there in the universe. Perhaps they're working on this now...or rather in the near future.'

'And we know Sarayah said John had a blood link to the Ancients,' Daniel added. 'Perhaps this Atlantis, this lost city of the Ancestors, is somewhere he meets them and they're working together on this 'gate.'

'That's a lot of perhapses,' O'Neill quipped, grimacing at the sound of the word.

'It is,' Carter agreed, 'and it's also the best case scenario. There's another possibility, one that's a lot less favourable to us.'

'Which is?'

'That the experimental 'gate never worked the way it was supposed to and they abandoned it. That the Ancients never found a way to stabilise the mobile power sources long enough to make it feasible...or couldn't draw enough energy from the atmosphere or environment to maintain a stable wormhole, which is another possible theory. But whatever the case, if they abandoned it, someone has activated it, and if it's out there and Sarayah travelled through it, that leaves Earth vulnerable to unforeseen infiltration. We have to continue to question her in the hopes of finding out its location before someone else, someone who will use it against us, does just that.'

Hammond, who had been listening intently, now began to nod. 'So, in your opinions, this remains a matter of global security?'

'Absolutely, Sir,' Carter nodded fervently.

'Would you agree, Colonel O'Neill?'

When Sheppard looked his way, he found O'Neill scrutinising him, chewing thoughtfully at the inside of his mouth. Then he leaned forward on the table. 'I guess if there's a Stargate out there with the potential to transport people or things to our planet without our knowledge, it has to be. But whether Sarayah herself poses a global threat...I seriously doubt it.'

Hammond looked confused. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean, I think she has a very specific agenda.'

Again, Sheppard noted that the colonel's attention was on him. And he really didn't like the direction this was going in.

'But she still may have information that we need,' Daniel interrupted. 'If this experimental 'gate is on a planet she's been to, then maybe we can persuade her to give us the gate symbols to get us there.'

'Er, can I remind you all that she said we were all trapped there,' McKay pointed out. 'That might not be such a good idea.'

'Yes, but if we're right about the experimental 'gate being on that planet, that explains the override, remember?' Carter added. 'All we'd need to do is find the controls and shut it down to be able to gate back off the planet.'

'And if that doesn't work?' the scientist asked.

She blinked at him, then shrugged. 'Well, at worst we have to wait a few weeks for the Prometheus to fly by and pick us up.'

McKay huffed out a laugh. 'You have no idea what might lurk in that place. Surviving a few weeks sounds easy if you're gating to Hawaii, but an uncharted planet? Besides, the very act of travelling there before we're meant to will change the future, Sarayah will never 'gate here, and we won't know about this hypothetical 'experimental gate', thus ending this conversation right now.'

Sheppard had to admit to himself that this time McKay made a valid point...several of them.

'None of which matters because she has no intention of giving us anything we can use ,' O'Neill shouted, bringing them all back to the point. '

There was a definite tension building in the room, one that was dividing the team's opinions. Daniel and Carter wanted to keep her to hand, seeing the benefits of tapping her supposed knowledge. O'Neill, on the other hand, apparently saw Sarayah as nothing but trouble and wanted her out of their hair. Only Teal'c remained impassive, listening to all views without passing comment.

'So what? We ship her out of here because this might be tough?' Daniel challenged. 'Jack, we know it's only a matter of time before Anubis attacks, and apparently there's a weapon in this "Lost City" that can defeat him. We have to at least ask more questions about that, don't we?'

O'Neill's face clouded, and what little restraint he'd managed to practice seemed to disappear. 'You and I both know why she's here, Daniel. She made that patently obvious when we last spoke to her. She won't tell us what we want to know because it doesn't benefit her in any way. All she wants is him.'

The colonel jabbed a finger in Sheppard's direction, confirming Sheppard's fears that Sarayah had said something he wasn't yet aware of. 'I'm sorry...am I missing something here?'

'The colonel believes Sarayah has some kind of vendetta against the version of you she's previously met, Major,' the general explained, ever succinct.

'A vendetta? Is this because of her hand?'

'Oh, she hasn't been that forthcoming,' O'Neill told him. 'That would spoil her game.'

'Her game?' Sheppard raised his eyebrows, feeling a little queasy at the thought he was just some kind of pawn in all this.

'Yes. It would seem you two have a history...or rather a future...God, I hate time travel,' O'Neill grumbled, slapping his hand to his forehead.

'But look. We know she's come from the future, or some alternate universe...she recognised three of us...she even knew Major Sheppard's serial number,' Daniel countered. 'It's not like she can make that kind of thing up. And if she can recall that kind of detail, maybe she can give us the 'gate addresses we need in exchange for something else she might value.'

O'Neill threw up his hands in despair. 'You just don't get this, Daniel. She won't tell us, because she doesn't want to. The only way she might divulge the info we need is if we promise to hand Major Sheppard over to her in exchange, and I don't imagine we're gonna do that...are we, General?'

Sheppard listened to the banter, but only took in half of what was being said, not even reacting to the suggestion he could be used to buy Sarayah's co-operation. His mind had seized on the fact she knew his serial number...a detail that seemed more pertinent now after last night's dream. 'Did she say _how_ she knew my serial number?' he asked, silencing the debate.

'Uh...no. Why?' Daniel asked him, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

'Well, it's not like I give it away free to every new friend I make, so how does she know it?'

His question brought a hush to the gathering, until Carter finally spoke up. 'He's right. We don't exactly broadcast these things, so just because she's met him, doesn't mean she should know it. Why didn't I pick up on that before?'

'Too caught up in all the 'experimental Stargate' goodness,' O'Neill chipped in, earning a foul look.

Although he'd hoped to keep last night's weird dream to himself, Sheppard suddenly realised it, and the others he'd experienced over the past few days, might be pertinent. 'Last night I had a nightmare about Sarayah...'

He tailed off, waiting for them to start muttering or laughing behind his back, but they didn't. Even McKay managed to contain his response to a slight smirk.

'She was part of some army...an enemy unit,' he continued. 'I didn't recognise the uniform, but I was their prisoner and I was being questioned...about the address to Atlantis.'

Now even McKay's sneer slipped.

'At the risk of sounding callous, did you hand it over?' Daniel asked, his expression hopeful even though he clearly felt awkward asking.

'No. I did what we're trained to do when questioned by the enemy. I gave her my name, rank...and serial number.'

'Yes, yes...but that was just a dream...wasn't it?' Even McKay's natural arrogance was wavering in the face of the unravelling mysteries.

'Well, yeah...but at the time it felt pretty real,' Sheppard assured him.

'What'd she do? Sleep deprivation, electric shocks...water boarding?' O'Neill asked, getting to the real nitty-gritty of the subject.

'Uh...cat-o-nine tails, actually,' Sheppard muttered.

O'Neill's eyebrows inched up a degree. 'Ouch!'

'Look, I know that makes me sound like some kind of freaky masochist, but I've never dreamed anything like that before, so I thought it might be worth telling you guys.'

'No, it doesn't sound like that...and you were right to say something...thanks,' Sam replied, her formidable brain already ticking over with the new information. At least she didn't seem to think he was a freak.

'And your other nightmares, were they similar?' Fraiser asked, making some notes for herself which she was no doubt itching to pass to a shrink on his behalf.

'Well, I didn't know who was after me in the first one because I couldn't really see or hear anything, but the second one was...similar, yeah.'

Everyone was looking at Sam again, but strangely it was Teal'c who proposed a theory. 'Is it possible that the nature of this experimental 'gate we believe she may have transported through gives her unusual properties that allow the major to access the memories of his future self when in her proximity?'

O'Neill threw him a strained look. 'I'm sorry...what?'

'Actually, Sir, I was wondering the same thing myself,' she confessed, toying with the remote for the display she'd been showing them. 'Major Sheppard has suffered unusual nightmares and been struck down by a mystery illness since he arrived here. Maybe being close to her is having some kind of detrimental effect on him. We really don't know anything about the consequences going through an unstable wormhole could have on a person. Maybe it does open up some kind of connection, especially since she's met Sheppard in both existences. She may be acting as some kind of conduit, allowing memories to transfer from one Sheppard to another, maybe even having a physical affect on him.'

'You see, I just don't get any of that stuff. How could that possibly happen?' O'Neill grumbled.

'Well, the block universe theory of time does state that all points in time exist simultaneously, so perhaps someone who has somehow travelled through all the simultaneous points to get from what we traditionally call the future to the past, or our present, in an experimental wormhole might somehow be able to give other people access to those moments, too,' McKay piped up, and O'Neill dropped his head into his hands, apparently giving up the battle to follow proceedings...perhaps even the will to live.

'But then surely you and Sam should be experiencing the same phenomena?' Daniel asked the scientist. 'She claims to have met all three of you, after all.'

'Perhaps the type of relationship she shares with Major Sheppard makes him more susceptible. If those nightmares were actually visions of the future, then perhaps the trauma attached to the events makes gives them a clearer imprint in time,' Sam offered in explanation.

O'Neill rubbed his temples and gave an exaggerated sigh, clearly struggling to grasp the ideas they were proposing. 'So let me get this straight, this block theory says all points of time exist at the same time?'

'That's right,' Sam nodded.

'And they exist all the time'

'Yes, Sir.'

'So...does that mean I'm going to be perpetually as confused as I feel right now?'

She laughed. 'That's the theory, Sir.'

'And somewhere in time, Sheppard is continually having the crap beaten out of him by that psycho,' McKay added, drawing angry glares from his audience. 'What?' he demanded. 'If we're going for the theory, it's true!'

Clearing his throat, Hammond brought the meeting to order again. 'So, to summarise, we have enough unanswered questions and potential threats to the planet to make keeping Sarayah here for questioning viable?' he clarified.

'I believe so, Sir. Yes,' Carter agreed.

'Well, if you would do me the favour of collating all the information and theories discussed here into a file I can forward to the president, we'll see if he agrees.'

'Maybe it would be prudent for one of us to let Sarayah know what's at stake...that she's no longer calling the shots and if she doesn't deliver some useful information soon, she's definitely gonna find herself institutionalised,' Daniel added. 'We should give her that chance, right?'

Sheppard sensed most everyone agreed with the sentiment, but they all just looked at Daniel, blinking back at him in anticipation.

He took a deep breath, pressing his palms down on the table as if to steady himself in some way. 'I guess that'll be me then. I suppose I do have something of a rapport with her.'

'Oh, yeah. You're practically best buds,' O'Neill scoffed. 'I can't think of a better man for the job.'

'And if talking to her doesn't work, we could always try hypnosis to try to extricate the information,' Dr Fraiser suggested. 'I have a contact who's an expert in the field. I can give him a call...have him on standby.'

'Agreed,' Hammond announced. 'Major Carter, perhaps you and Dr McKay could work together to compile that dossier of information I need for the president. Major Sheppard, if you feel able to assist them with that I'm sure they would appreciate your input. Dr Jackson, you will update Sarayah on the changes in her situation and try to persuade her that co operating is now in her best interests. Dismissed.'

The general pushed up and left the room as the others looked around at each other. Dr Fraiser was quick to add her own advice to the general's request to Sheppard. 'Two hours tops, Major. Then I want you back in the infirmary where I can keep an eye on you.'

'Yes, Ma'am,' he said, finishing off with a mock salute. 'I'll be there.'

'You see that you are,' she smirked, collecting up her files and leaving.

Daniel, O'Neill and Teal'c departed to the echoes of a heated discussion about just what kind of tack Daniel should take with their prisoner. And that left Sheppard with the two scientists of the group, hoping he could keep up with them long enough to be of some help.

'So, what do I do?' he asked, waiting for instruction.

'Well, first off, you can help us carry this equipment back to the lab if you're up to it,' Carter told him, hurriedly disconnecting cables from the array of technical devices they'd used in their tutorial.

'Sure...I can do that,' he grinned, happy he could at least keep up with that much.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yeah...good luck with that discussion Daniel!**

**Again, thanks to everyone still following the story. Your support in gratefully received! :)**

**Oh, and just to clear up an issue for anyone reading who isn't commenting but had this thought, genii (small 'g' and pronouced dji-ni-ai) is the gramatically correct way to pluralise genius, which is a latin word. You can say geniuses, but that's an Anglo/American version of the word that has come into use more colloquially. McKay, being around my age so no doubt remembering the formal way we were taught to do it, uses the latin form in his dialogue in chapter 11. I thought since he considers himself a genius he would probably like it that way! lol**


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

An hour later, Daniel was psyched up and ready to go. He'd already decided to ignore pretty much all of the advice O'Neill had spouted at him, most of which entailed him calling Sarayah a variety of insulting names ranging from the relatively tame 'fruit loop', to the more antagonistic 'psycho bitch from hell'. Preferring to take a less confrontational approach, Daniel had decided to tackle the problem as if he was still her friend and was merely the messenger for the others. Not that he was foolish enough to believe Sarayah liked or even trusted him, but it was a role he felt more comfortable with, the mediator...the arbitrator.

He left Jack observing in the balcony once Sarayah was in position, then headed down to the interrogation room, taking one final deep breath to calm his nerves before nodding to the SFs on the door to ask them to let him in.

Inside, Sarayah lounged in a seat behind the central table looking mildly amused. 'Daniel. Alone today? No cameras? No video equipment? No reinforcements?'

'No...this isn't going to be anything formal. More of a chat really,' he told her, pinning on a smile he had real trouble maintaining.

'Really, and yet I find myself in this same room...under scrutiny.' She glanced up to the darkened windows near the ceiling, clearly more than aware someone was out there keeping an eye on proceedings.

'That's just protocol,' he lied. 'No one means to offend you.'

'No one?' she asked, questioning his assessment.

Daniel chose not to answer that and pulled out a seat on the opposite side of the table instead, sitting down and clasping his hands on the table in front of him. 'Sarayah, I need to talk to you about what's going on here.'

'Please...do enlighten me,' she smirked, giving him a creepy feeling she already knew a lot more than she was letting on.

'Okay, well, the government, that is the people in charge of our country –'

'I know what a government is, Daniel,' she snapped, apparently finding his tone patronising.

'Of course you do...I'm sorry,' he immediately apologised, smoothing things over. 'Anyhow, our government is getting impatient for some definite information that proves you are what you claim to be.'

'And what is that, exactly?' she asked, folding her arms tightly across herself, shutting her body language down.

This was not going well. Daniel could feel what little co-operation she'd demonstrated over recent times slipping away from him. 'An alien...an alien with knowledge of a lost city we need to find.'

'And that's not all is it?' she asked, her gaze drilling into him. 'You want to know how I got here because you think your planet is vulnerable, isn't that right?'

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Sarayah was a smart woman, there was no doubting that, but they'd never really made that much of an issue about seeing her presence on their planet as a violation of any kind. How had she come to that conclusion so quickly? It was almost as if she'd been listening to their earlier conversations about her.

He felt his smile faltering a little as he sought the right words to answer her. 'Well, there is an element of that, yes,' he confessed, wondering how to take the conversation forward from there. 'But –'

She leaned forward elbow on the table, chin in hand. 'Why should I give you people information?' she asked. 'What will I be given in return?'

'A home...friendship...maybe even a way to find your own home if you can tell us where it is.'

The laugh that met with was sharp and mocking. 'I don't want any of those things,' she stated bluntly.

'Then tell us what we can offer you and we'll see if we can accommodate y –'

'I want John Sheppard.'

Daniel stopped speaking and blinked at her. It wasn't that what she said was a surprise, but he was a little shocked that she was so blatant about it. Her eyes drilled into him as if emphasising the seriousness of her demand. 'Well, that's not going to happen. John is going home, so from now on you'll be dealing only with me and the others in my team. If you –'

'Then I've said everything I need to say,' she interrupted, and from the set of her jaw, it was clear she meant it.

He took a deep breath while he thought how to word the next response, pushing his glasses up as was his habit when agitated. 'Well, I hope you'll reconsider that decision, Sarayah, because we really need the information you have, and while there are ways we can help you to recall any lost memories you may still have, if you refuse to co-operate, it may be more unpleasant than it has to be.'

She tilted her head a little in her palm. 'Is that a threat, Daniel?'

Again, she looked vaguely amused, as if she thought it a joke that someone like him would dare to challenge her. Daniel wasn't the most intimidating personality, he knew, but the thought she found him laughable did somewhat grate on his nerves.

'It doesn't have to be. Just say you'll help us.'

She arched an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed. 'What's the point? You plan to hypnotise me...gain access to my subconscious recall anyway,' she replied, her smirk broadening as she leaned back now to regard him.

That took him aback. Again, it was as if she had been party to their earlier meeting. It wasn't as if she was guessing what their next move would be...she just seemed to know.

'How...how do you know that?'

Though the rest of her expression remained frozen in a hard smile, her eyes blazed at the question 'Because unlike you and your puny human friends, I know everything,' she sneered. 'I have no problem with my recall of events, past or future, whichever you choose to call them. I just prefer not to share them...not until I get what I came for.'

'Major Sheppard?'

'Major Sheppard,' she echoed, the smile now transforming to a fixed and angry line. 'For everything I could give your planet, I think it's a small price to ask.'

The thought she believed he would trade a man's life that way sickened him. What kind of people were these Medulsans that they valued human life so cheaply? 'Whatever your quarrel with John, it hasn't happened yet. Even if we would consider a request like yours, which we wouldn't, we'd be handing you an innocent man,' he pointed out, hoping to appeal to any shred of humanity that might be lurking behind her menacing facade.

'He's a ranking military officer. I don't believe the word innocent is appropriate, do you?' she asked, putting him on the spot.

Daniel had no real come back to that. The moment you killed a man, innocence was lost, and no doubt the major, who had seen action in Afghanistan, had blood on his hands as a result of carrying out his duties. But Sheppard was a good man, Daniel could feel that, and if the nightmares he'd been enduring were even close to the truth, Sarayah was by far the more guilty and dangerous of the two of them.

'What does your government intend to do with me if I don't co-operate?' Sarayah asked coolly.

He considered her question for a moment, a perfectly reasonable one under the circumstances, and decided it was pointless to try to sugar coat the consequences. 'If you can't prove you're truly from another planet and, if you are, how you got here, they'll assume you're...mentally unstable and have you sent to a secure mental hospital for treatment.'

'Treatment?'

'To cure you of your delusions,' he clarified. 'But it doesn't have to come to that if you just tell us what you know.'

She pushed her seat back sharply and rose to her feet, striding to the back of the room and staring at the wall as if she couldn't tolerate looking at him anymore. 'Your friends believe I am a threat to your planet...if I give them what they want to know, what's stopping them from disposing of me?'

Another smart question, and valid considering O'Neill's open animosity toward her. 'Because that's not how we do things,' he promised her. 'If you help us, prove you're not a threat, we'll help you.'

She glanced over her shoulder at him. 'Even after everything you think you have discovered about me?' she asked before turning away again.

He stared at her back, her head held high and proud, shoulders spread, stance strong, and wondered again how she knew they had made discoveries that might make them question her. 'What do you mean?'

'John's nightmares...'

There was no way she should know about those things. The first he'd heard of them himself was a little over an hour ago and he was the first person from that meeting to approach her since. 'How do you...?'

She turned toward him now, her glare ferocious, her lips curling into a sneer. 'I told you, Daniel...I know everything.'

'But how? I don't understand.'

'You wish to understand?' she asked him, walking back toward the table, veering around it and approaching him even as he stood and backed away from her. 'You wish to know what I know? Then let me help you.'

Before he could respond, or shout for help, she launched for him, pinning him to the wall. He had no idea what she did, the bump he took to his head momentarily stunning him. Then his brain began to heat up as if someone had lit a fire at its core, images flashing through his mind with such speed and violence his body began to buckle as if physically assaulted. Somewhere in the dim distance he could hear yelling, but the voices were lost amidst strobing visions of torture and malevolence the likes of which he'd never before witnessed. He wrenched his eyes open, realising she was touching his head, passing these images to him, but something was wrong, she felt too close...too close...

Then she was gone...disappearing into tiny particles right in front of him...and then O'Neill was in his face, grasping his arms as he slid down the wall and shaking him though he could barely hear the man's voice above the ringing in his head. The heat in his brain continued to rage, the images still randomly firing through his mind no matter how hard he tried to shut them out. He could feel himself failing.

'Daniel...Stay with me!' he heard O'Neill order him, and he really tried to comply, but unfortunately his body had other ideas.

'We have...to...get John...away from here,' he choked out, and then his brain decided to call time out and shut those images down.

oooOOOooo

In the labs, McKay and Carter had made some headway on their report, with the help of Sheppard's eye witness accounts of the scene where she was found. He was battling to keep a headache at bay, one probably exacerbated by the fluorescent lighting and the barrage of questions he'd fenced from the two of them for the past hour. He really hoped they'd be done with him soon.

'You know, I always thought that truck looked weird,' he confessed, picking something odd looking up off the desktop and turning it over in his hands. 'The way it was sheared off was just too clean, too perfect...and it wasn't scorched like the other stuff I shifted when I was looking for Sarayah's hand, which, when you look back at things was pretty odd. But we didn't really have time to think about it then. We just had to get people out of there.'

Carter straightened up, glancing at the jar he held, but making no attempt to take it from him. 'Well, you had no reason to believe anything other than the RPG attack had taken place. No one did. At least not until Sarayah started talking about other planets.'

McKay was grimacing as he worked, something Sheppard couldn't help but notice. 'Something up, McKay?'

'Don't mind me...I'm just imagining hunting round for a severed hand...' he muttered, not bothering to look up.

Sheppard held up the jar in his hands, trying to get a better look at the critter suspended in the murky liquid inside it. 'What is this thing, anyway?'

'It's a goa'uld symbiote. They attach themselves around your spine and burrow into your brain, so they can take over your mind and use your body as a host.'

Now it was Sheppard's turn to grimace, the thought of something invading his body and taking over making him shudder. 'And _you_ think a severed hand is freaky,' he snorted at McKay, squinting into the jar. Then a thought occurred to him. 'It_ is_ dead, right?'

'Yeah...it's dead,' Carter grinned, paging through their gathered data again...until the lights went out.

After just a few seconds of virtual pitch blackness, illuminated only by their laptops, the backup generator kicked in and a sickly jaundiced hue allowed them to see their surroundings again.

'Okay, I'd better go see what's causing the power outage. You guys stay here and carry on working on the report. I'll be right back,' Carter told them, hopping off her seat and jogging out the door.

Sheppard looked McKay's way, and seeing that he didn't look unduly worried relaxed a little himself. Perhaps it was the oppressive atmosphere of this underground facility, but that power outage had shaken him for a moment. He supposed it was the fact they were so far underground with no natural light to replace the fluorescent strips if they failed that subconsciously bothered him so much. He really wasn't used to this underground living. Give him the open skies any day.

Setting the jar down, he leaned over to take a look at what McKay was reading. It was the theories about the power signature from what he could make out, comparative levels of RPG explosions, along with other devices, but much of it was too complicated for him to understand in any detail.

And when the siren sounded he lost all hope of getting his head around it.

Now, even McKay looked alarmed, his hands frozen above his keyboard, his jaw hanging slack.

'Well, that can't be good,' Sheppard shouted, trying to spur the man into a response.

'No...no it can't be,' McKay agreed, still not moving.

'Maybe we should go check it out,' he prompted.

McKay seemed confused by the suggestion. 'Why?'

Sheppard slid off his seat, his headache now pounding with the increase in noise. 'Because there must be a problem, McKay. They don't sound sirens to let you know it's time for dinner.' Anything he could do to get that siren stopped sooner had to be a good thing as far as he was concerned.

'And what can we do?' Rodney yelled back at him, face flushed with fear and annoyance.

'I dunno. But one thing's for sure, we can't do anything sitting here and talking about it.'

Clearly not happy with the thought of heading out there, McKay once again tried to dissuade him. 'Look, this place is crammed full to the back teeth with military types who are more than capable of handling an emergency. What are an injured pilot and a physicist gonna do to help?'

'Okay, if you don't wanna help, stay here and close the door. I'm gonna go find out what's going on,' Sheppard told him, tiring of the debate.

McKay was right behind him before he even got out of the door. 'Well, they say knowledge is power.'

'Or ignorance is bliss,' Sheppard tossed back at him, along with a cocky smile.

Apparently, McKay didn't see the funny side, scowling and muttering something about "wise-ass flyboys" under his breath. Sheppard let it slide, doing his best not to laugh.

His good humour soon evaporated when, at the end of that first corridor, even the back-up power failed and they were plunged into complete darkness and silence, the tiny red power lights of the video surveillance cameras running on battery back-up the only thing punctuating the blanket of blackness now shrouding them. McKay instantly collided with Sheppard, hissing out a curse.

'This happen often?' Sheppard whispered to him, the sudden darkness making him too wary to use his full voice.

'No...it shouldn't happen at all,' McKay whispered back.

'Okay, so it's probably a bad sign,' Sheppard figured. 'You have a flashlight?'

'Yeah, a small one,' McKay replied, and a couple of seconds later a thin beam of light split the air, making Sheppard reflexively close his eyes against its brightness as Rodney shone it straight in his face.

'Do you have to?'

'Sorry,' McKay's panic-edged voice rasped back.

'Give it to me. I'll lead the way, you stick close behind, 'Sheppard told him, figuring they were unlikely to get anywhere if he asked Rodney to take point.

'Okay.'

Eventually, McKay's clammy paw found Sheppard's and he pressed the flashlight into it. Sheppard immediately made use of it, edging along the corridor as quickly as their reduced vision allowed. From time to time they spotted other shafts of light and called out, but all they heard were confused calls from other scientists who told them the communication systems were down so they had no idea what was going on.

Knowing they would have to run into someone with a clue at some point, Sheppard pressed on, heading for the corridor he felt certain led to the staircase that would take them to the control room. Perhaps someone there would be able to enlighten them.

'You know, maybe we should just sit tight and wait for power to be restored,' Rodney suggested, his voice tiny and quivering in the engulfing darkness. 'Heading up and down stairs in the dark might be dangerous.'

'McKay, I get it that you were way down in the line when back bones were handed out, but I promise if you stick with me, I'll take care of you. Okay?' Sheppard snapped, instantly regretting being so hard on the guy.

'I got your word on that?' McKay squeaked. 'Only most people around here would take this as some kind of opportunity to pounce on me while no one can see them.'

Sheppard turned and shone the light so he could at least see McKay's face. 'I think you're seriously overestimating your effect on people, McKay.'

He turned and trudged on, McKay's footsteps taking a few seconds to sound out behind him. Apparently the idea people weren't continually plotting his demise took a while to compute. A clang and a curse behind him let Sheppard know the unfortunate scientist had just managed to walk into the fire extinguisher he'd manoeuvred around himself. He guessed he should have warned him about it since he was the one with the light.

'McKay, you might not want to walk quite so close to the walls,' he called back.

'Oh yeah, now you tell me!' the man whined from the darkness behind him.

Sheppard shone the light back at him again, finding McKay doubled over and rubbing his knee. 'I've probably displaced the patella or damaged the cartilage. A heads up wouldn't have gone amiss, you know.'

'Sorry, I'll let you know next time we're approaching any _dangerous_ obstacles.'

Sheppard carried on only a few more paces until he reached the end of that corridor where another crossed it, stopping a moment to get his bearings. Navigating an unfamiliar facility in almost complete darkness really wasn't how he'd planned to spend his afternoon and although he'd thought he knew where he was going, now he wasn't sure whether to turn left or right. Somewhere in the building, maybe even on another floor, he thought he could hear someone calling his name, and he was about to respond when McKay thumped into the back of him again.

'Jeez, McKay! Don't you have any spatial awareness?' he hissed.

From back down the corridor, McKay called, 'Why are you giving me so much grief? Maybe if I had the flashlight –'

Sheppard didn't catch the rest of what he said, he was too busy figuring out how McKay could have collided with him yet be so far away now.

He turned, the scant light illuminating Sarayah's features for only a split second before he felt something crash against his chest with such force it lifted his feet clean off the floor. He smashed to the polished concrete few feet back, his momentum making him slide until he smacked into the wall opposite the junction he'd reached, his head spinning from the contact. The flashlight had rolled away from him and lay several feet from his position, illuminating the corridor back the way he'd come and showing Sarayah storming back toward where he'd left Rodney.

'McKay! Get outta there!' he yelled.

A shriek from back in the shadows told him the scientist hadn't got far before Sarayah caught hold of him. The squeak of his shoes and the curses that followed suggested he was struggling, then she came back into view, gripping his throat in her left hand and walking him alongside her.

'And once again you have a decision to make, John. Do as I ask or I'll kill your friend.'

'What do you mean, "once again"?' he grunted, clambering back to his feet. 'Will you try to get it into your head that I don't know you...that we haven't met before this!'

She let go of McKay, punching him hard in the gut to ensure he wasn't going anywhere. He sank to his knees, whimpering and clutching his belly as Sarayah began to advance.

Sheppard prepared to fight her off, but her movements in that dark passage were a blur, and she soon had him pinned against the wall he'd earlier bounced off, pushing her body hard against his to hold him there. 'Well, we've met now, and you're the reason I'm here, so since I can't make you atone in our own timeline, this one will have to do,' she hissed.

He could barely breathe with the pressure she inflicted on his chest, still not recovered from his bout of illness two days ago and now hurting all over again. He tried to free himself, but every time he attempted to lever her away from him she seemed to slip from his grip.

'What the hell do you want from me?' he demanded, squirming to free himself.

She smiled up at him, obviously enjoying his struggles. 'The same thing I've always wanted,' she whispered, her breath hot on his neck. 'To teach you a lesson in respect.' Then he became aware that with no apparent shift of his clothes, her hand was now resting on the skin of his abdomen, as if she'd passed right through his shirt.

At that point he freaked out, managing to take her by surprise and rip himself free. The light down here was poor, and he was anxious, but he still knew what he'd seen and it creeped the hell out of him.

'Where do you think you're going, John? There's nowhere you can hide from me, haven't you worked that out yet? I'll always find you.'

The words had eerie echoes of the warnings from his nightmares. Had she deliberately put those dreams in his head?

'McKay?' he called out, hearing the scientist groaning a few feet away. 'Get yourself the hell outta here!'

Then Sarayah was in between them, without making any discernable movement. 'Always worrying about others, John. You're so very sweet, but what's the real reason behind it? Is it easier than facing your own problems?'

What did she know about his problems? No one knew the baggage he carried; he kept that all to himself. 'Just get away from him. If your argument's with anyone, it's with me.'

'My argument is with everyone who made you what you are, that includes your colleagues, your friends, and that father of yours who scarred your psyche so deeply.'

Though he thought it rich coming from someone like her, he found himself suddenly tight lipped and unwilling to retaliate. If he'd needed proof that she really did know him, there it was, laid bare with all the emotional rawness those words brought with them. But what exactly was he dealing with here, because the more he had to do with her, the less he was convinced that she was human in any real sense of the word.

She grabbed hold of the back of McKay's plaid shirt and wrenched him up to his feet, then tossed him across the corridor as if he were no more that a plastic doll. With a pained screech, the scientist slammed against the grey concrete, then slumped to the floor, apparently out for the count.

Sarayah went after him again, but Sheppard launched for her. Unfortunately, he completely failed to make contact, seeming to pass right through her and bowling off down the corridor, winded and stunned again. A second later she was on his back, dragging his head awkwardly up from the floor by his hair.

'What are you?' he gasped, gritting his teeth as her knee dug into his spine.

'When you sent me to be judged, I was a mere human, but the Divine One decided to make me a god. I suppose that says all we need to know about which one of us is right now, doesn't it?'

She cackled, seeming to dissolve off of him and reappear at his side, where she delivered a kick that rolled him onto his back, leaving him groaning at the further punishment to his sore ribs.

Squatting beside him, she rested her hand on his chest. 'You can't hope to hold out against me this time, John. You barely survived when I was just human, and now I'm so much more than that.' His body beneath her hand felt uncomfortably warm and tingly, then with muted horror he watched as her hand appeared to sink into his body, something tightening within his chest and feeling as though his heart was under strain to keep beating.

'And now, like any true god, I hold your life in my hand,' she stated, so matter-of-fact he could hardly believe it was happening. 'One good squeeze would stop your heart and end our battle before it has even begun...' She looked down at him, her features barely visible now with her back to the faint illumination from the flashlight. 'Then I would never meet you...never have to endure this torment...'

At first Sheppard thought she was talking about the loss of her hand, but then he sensed something more, the contact apparently opening up that channel Carter thought might exist between them. What he felt in that instant scared him more than her hatred ever could. Love? In her sick, twisted way, that was what she really felt for him. He'd heard the old adage that it was a fine line, but this was taking it to the extreme.

He lay prone before her, afraid to move for fear she might rip his heart right out of him, too shocked and breathless to plead for mercy...not that he would...at least not mercy for himself.

Gradually, without a word, he felt the grip on his heart release, easing the ache in his chest and reducing his dizziness and nausea. While he tried to gather himself, she reached out instead to stroke her one remaining hand down his cheek. 'So perfect,' she whispered, her hand damp with what it occurred to him might be his blood. 'And now, you're coming with m—'

With a metallic thud, she was sprawled across him and McKay was screaming for help, the fire extinguisher he'd struck her with highlighted in the beam of the discarded flashlight. With the vaguely amusing notion that a god could be floored by something so utilitarian popping into his head, Sheppard felt his grip on wakefulness gradually slip from his grasp, taking him out of his waking nightmare.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Go, Rodney! So now they all know what Sarayah can do. But can they do anything about it? I guess you'll just have to read on to find out. **

**Thanks again for all the reviews. They keep me going as I wade through writing my final chapter. Go me! lol**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

That sterile infirmary smell he'd become so accustomed to was the first thing to filter through to him once again as Sheppard blinked himself awake some time later. So, he was back in the infirmary again? How had that happened? Gradually, the events that had led up to this moment came back to him, leaving him on edge. Was he safe now...was Sarayah waiting to pounce again, she'd seemed unstoppable in those murky corridors. Feeling eyes on him awakened a surge of panic in his gut, but as he rolled his head to the left he found it was only Daniel watching him from the bed next to his.

'Hey there,' Daniel smiled, giving him a wave. 'Welcome back.'

'She got to you too, huh?' Sheppard asked, straining to push himself up into a sitting position. His brain protested by setting the room spinning for a few seconds but it thankfully settled again.

'Yes, apparently she was willing to go through just about anybody to get to you,' he heard McKay say from the bed on his other side. 'Oh, and by the way, you're welcome for the save back there...although I should probably thank you for diverting her attention from me long enough to do that.'

He looked over at Rodney now, spotting the bruised cheekbone and swollen lip he was sporting. 'Then I guess you're welcome, too. So where is she now?'

'Contained,' Daniel explained. 'We heavily sedated her while she was unconscious, and now she's sleeping it off two floors down in a custom-made force shield cell.'

'Seems she has to be conscious to do that whole disappearing act, so while she's out, we found a way to hold her,' McKay added.

'And we're sure that'll do the trick?' Sheppard asked.

'Yeah, it's an alternating shield. It has no fixed pattern, so it deflects pretty much anything,' McKay told him matter-of-fact.

'Pretty much?'

'Well, nothing's one hundred percent certain. We have to allow for a certain margin of error. But seriously, the chances of her getting out of that box are almost zero...no more than a thousandth of a percent,' McKay assured him.

Sheppard nodded, willing to take his word for that. He was a frighteningly smart guy, just as Carter was one hell of a smart woman. What gave him the right to question them? If they said Sarayah was contained, she was contained.

'So, what is she, because clearly she's no ordinary human?' he asked them.

Rodney eagerly fielded that question, punctuating his explanation with vigorous gestures. It was the most animated Sheppard had seen him. 'Well, we can't be sure without further tests, but we suspect this has something to do with the nature of the 'gate she travelled through. The 'gate was probably created by the original 'gate builders, the Ancients, a race of beings who have long since ascended into energy form, perhaps abandoning the project when they chose to do that. No need for 'gates when you have no physical body, right? But for some reason Sarayah has accessed this experimental 'gate, which we think experienced some kind of catastrophic failure, and she's somehow been left in a state of semi-reintegration. It seems the links between her individual cells are still "loose" for want of a better word. So she's able to think herself apart when necessary, and she is apparently very, very good at it.'

'No kidding!'

'From what I saw when she attacked me, Sarayah has spent her life hunting, manipulating and controlling people,' Daniel interjected, much to McKay's obvious annoyance. 'She's incredibly smart...I felt that...and adapts rapidly to any given situation she finds herself in. She's had days of being locked up alone in her room other than the occasional interview and meal delivery, lots of time to practice getting this skill down pat.'

'If that happened to me, I'd be terrified!' Sheppard huffed, then he thought back to a few days ago, when she'd been brought into the infirmary in a state of absolute terror and distress. Had that been when she'd realised she had that ability? She'd been screaming about her hand disappearing and they'd all assumed she meant her right hand, the severed hand. Perhaps she hadn't meant that at all.

'Yes...well...I'm not sure Sarayah understands fear in the same way we do,' Daniel told him. 'She's...brutal. A killing machine. Heartless, soulless, you name it, she lacks it.'

'Except the ability to bypass your security,' Sheppard grunted, rubbing his aching chest as he pushed up a little higher against his crisp, white pillows.

'And she's all yours, Sheppard. Enjoy!' McKay quipped with a lopsided grin. The intensity of the stares from both his companions soon had that smile dropping from his face.

'Just how much did you find out about her?' Sheppard asked Daniel, turning his way and refusing to acknowledge that joke and further.

'Oh, let's just say I know more about Sarayah and her life prior to coming here than I ever wanted or hoped to. Now I feel like I need to scrub my brain out with bleach,' he said, now looking a little sick at the memories.

Before Sheppard could ask Daniel if he'd seen anything involving him, Dr Fraiser entered to check up on them. 'Ah, so all of my sleeping beauties are awake,' she beamed. 'That's good to see.'

'Er, I wasn't actually ever asleep,' Rodney piped up.

Fraiser blinked at him, then covered nicely. 'No, you're right Dr McKay. My mistake. So how're you feeling, Major?'

Sheppard was beginning to wish someone would give him a dollar for every time he'd heard that expression over the past few days, but kept the frustration from his tone when he answered. 'Okay...I think.'

'Well, the good news is that aside from bumps and abrasions, none of you have sustained any serious injuries, so I'll be releasing you all back to your quarters soon. And, Major Sheppard, General Hammond tells me he's arranged for a car to take you to Peterson first thing in the morning, something I'm sure you'll be sorry to hear.'

The immense sense of relief that washed over him left Sheppard on the brink of breaking down. He was so tired and so freaked out by everything he'd learned and seen over the past few days, he felt like he needed some time away just to get his head around it all. Maybe he'd be able to come back and help them some time in the future, but right now he needed to put as much space between him and Sarayah as possible, as soon as possible. He'd never considered himself to be the easily spooked type, but that woman...that system error...had left a mark on him it would take a lifetime to shake. That momentary connection, those few seconds of union when he'd experienced what she truly felt...that would remain indelibly burned into his brain no matter whether he ever saw her again or not.

'Is Sarayah still unconscious?' Daniel asked, slipping off the bed and straightening out his clothing.

'For the moment, since she appears to need to be conscious to...dissolve or whatever it is she does,' Fraiser replied, clutching her clipboard with their charts to her chest. 'The general has ordered us to keep her sedated until Major Carter had run more diagnostic to be certain the cell is secure...and until Major Sheppard is safely out of the facility.'

'So once he's gone we'll find out if that cell Sam created is strong enough to hold her,' Daniel mused.

'What do you mean? McKay said that thing was infallible to one thousandth of a percent!' Sheppard hated the panicked sound of his voice, but he'd been relying on that reassurance. There was no way he wanted to go up against Sarayah again because he had the feeling he'd only survived the last encounter in one piece through sheer good luck and timing on McKay's part.

'Hey, at least you're getting out of here tomorrow. I have to stay here and study her!' McKay pointed out. 'And look at what happened earlier,' he protested, pointing to a cut just above his left eyebrow. 'That's gonna leave a scar.'

Sheppard covered his own nerves by shrugged his shoulders and telling him, 'Don't worry about it. Women dig scars, right Doc?'

Fraiser smirked. 'Oh, yeah. Nothing I like better.'

'Really?' McKay sat up, puffing out his chest with pride. 'So now I can impress them with my intelligence and my scar?'

'Sure,' Sheppard told him. 'You'll be fightin' 'em off.'

This seemed to please the man immensely, and he laid his head back against his pillows, wearing a silly smile.

'Well, Daniel...Dr McKay, you two are free to go now. Major Sheppard...I know this isn't going to be popular with you, but I'd like you to stay in overnight considering your previous injuries. If tonight's observations show no further complications, you'll be free to leave and pack your things in the morning.'

'And I guess we know how those previous injuries happened now,' Rodney announced, sliding off his bed. 'Didn't I tell you those lesions looked like scratch marks?'

'Thank you, Dr McKay. Make sure you drop by for a check-up in the morning,' Janet said, her voice unusually firm.

Realising that was a hint he should leave, Rodney made himself scarce, as did Daniel, patting Sheppard on the shoulder and telling him to get some rest.

Dr Fraiser stepped up beside the bed, giving him a sympathetic smile. He figured she could see just how freaked out he was by what McKay had just said. 'I'm sorry. I planned to talk to you about the lesions, but I wouldn't have dropped it on you quite like that.'

'So when I couldn't get my breath...the pain in my chest...that was her.'

She nodded. 'It seems that way. Dr McKay did point out that the pattern of the lesions on the inside of your chest walls looked like scratches from a left hand, but at the time it seemed such a fantastic idea I completely ruled it out. Now we've seen what she's capable of, it's the most likely answer.'

He shuddered involuntarily, feeling suddenly cold. 'So is she one of those ascended beings McKay told me about?'

'Oh, I seriously doubt that. There are a lot of criteria to meet to be able to ascend, and I'm pretty sure Sarayah falls way short on all of them.'

'Criteria?'

'Kindness, patience, the ability to release one's burden...I think we can safely say none of those apply,' she said with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with humour.

'No...I think it's fair to say she bears a grudge,' he agreed, rubbing his chest again. He could see there was a substantial bruise on his breastbone from the blow that had knocked him over, but that wasn't what was making him most uncomfortable. 'She had hold of my heart, it couldn't beat properly...I thought she was gonna kill me.'

The doctor squeezed his shoulder to offer some kind of comfort, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be home in Nancy's arms, holding on tight and remembering how it used to feel. Yet in his heart he knew he would never find that feeling with her again. The crazy down in the high tech cell had more feelings for him than his own wife. How sick was that?

'I know this has all been a trial for you, John, but believe me, none of us would have brought you here if we'd had any idea of her motives or what she was capable of. And we won't ask you to come back unless we're certain we can control her. So, tomorrow morning, all being well, you'll be on a flight back home and all this will be behind you. You'll feel much better then.'

'Thanks, Doc. You're probably right,' he smiled, but he couldn't keep it up for long.

'Okay, well, you take it easy for the rest of the day, you hear? I don't want you getting out of this bed for any reason other than a rest break,' she told him.

'What...not even if Sarayah comes after me?' he called at her back as she retreated from his treatment bay.

'Not going to happen, Major. She will not be surfacing until well after you've gone, that's a promise.'

He knew her words were meant to reassure him, but they really didn't. He laid back his head and tried to close out the images of Sarayah's face coming at him out of the darkness, the hot prickle of her hand moving inside him, gripping his heart, and the intensity of the emotions whirling within her. He really didn't want to be in her head, or to have her inside his. He just wanted to forget any of this had happened, but suspected this experience wouldn't be as easy to block out as many of the bad things that had happened in his life before.

As far as he was concerned, morning couldn't come quickly enough. The sooner he could put this place behind him, the sooner he could try to box this nightmare up and hide it away from the light of day.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard hadn't even realised he was tired until he woke up to find McKay sitting in the chair beside his bed. Apparently he'd been asleep because he hadn't noticed him arrive, but his excited shrieks had now woken him.

'This is unbelievable!' he squeaked. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

Wincing at the shrillness and volume, he pinched the bridge of his nose, blinking the scientist into clearer focus. 'This better be good McKay. I'm under official doctor's orders to get some rest,' he grumbled, rubbing the residual blurriness of sleep from his eyes. His body ached even more than it had when he'd woken earlier, and he'd thought it was bad enough then. He felt like he'd been hit by a truck...and then reversed over for good measure.

'Oh, hey! You're awake,' McKay chirped, hurriedly dragging his chair closer to the bed.

'Yes...apparently so.'

'You have so got to see this!' the scientist insisted, dumping his laptop on Sheppard's outstretched legs and keying in some instructions. 'I managed to get hold of the footage from the corridors during the power outage, and you will not believe what the cameras picked up.'

He set the footage running and Sheppard watched the black screen interrupted only by a tiny beam of light.

He squinted to try to find something recognisable in the darkness. 'What am I looking at?'

'That's us coming up the corridor where she pounced on us...look, that's you turning round 'cos I walked into the extinguisher. And then you're off again...'

The beam of light grew brighter and stronger, and as it neared the end of the corridor where it was crossed by another, he could just make out his features, particularly the annoyance he'd felt when he'd thought McKay had bumped into him. And then, he watched the flashlight go flying, and in its weak light he saw the shadow of his body flying backwards through the air and sliding into the wall.

Then, so quickly he could barely make out any definite movement, Sarayah was returning with McKay's neck gripped in her hand. When he glanced up at McKay, he could clearly make out the thumb-shaped bruise on the front of his throat, something he hadn't noticed yesterday, and figured there would be finger marks to match at the back if he checked them out.

He watched himself clamber back to his feet and challenge her, seeing her punch McKay and advance, again her movements a complete blur as if one moment she was a few feet away, and the next moment right on top of him.

He couldn't help but noticed the inane grin on McKay's face as he watched it all. Much as he'd been terrified at the time it was going on, the scientist in him clearly found the phenomena totally fascinating now.

'It's like the most eventful episode of Ghost Hunters ever!' he chirped, eyes sparkling. 'She's moving so quickly she's like an apparition...not that I really believe in those things of course! But seriously, this is amazing. Watch! Every time you try to hit or grab her she just dematerialises that part of her body so you can't make contact. It's like she's invincible.'

The hairs on Sheppard's arms and neck were all standing to rigid attention as he watched the events play out. Fascinating it might be, amazing even, but it was also terrifying. She'd been almost unstoppable and he'd never come up against something he couldn't get a handle on before. He needed time to get his head round things before he could get enthusiastic about it. And he needed to hurt a whole hell of a lot less.

As he saw the moment Sarayah dragged McKay up from the floor and threw him into the wall, the scientist piped up, 'Look, I'm playing dead, you know, like they tell you to when a bear attacks. I can't believe that actually worked.'

Sheppard couldn't help but smile. McKay clearly wasn't a proud man, but his smarts had definitely won through on this occasion.

The rest of the ordeal played out, the darkness making it hard to see the moment her hand entered his chest and literally grasped his heart, but it didn't stop his physical reaction, the hot tightening sensation repeating as if she'd done it to him all over again. And then wham! McKay hit her with the extinguisher and she was down. The sense of relief he experienced as she face-planted was almost as palpable as the first time.

McKay grinned at him, but he just raised an eyebrow in question. 'Why're you showing me this?'

'Cos it's cool...and everyone else is busy. I mean, we went through that together, we worked as a team to take her down...I thought you might be interested.' Looking slightly crestfallen now, the scientist snapped the laptop shut and slid it back over onto his own lap. 'I guess you're just a bit to freaked out to appreciate it.'

'No, it's cool,' Sheppard admitted, feeling guilty that he'd sounded so unimpressed when McKay had actually reached out to him in friendship. 'You know, I guess if that wasn't me in those pictures I'd be just as excited to watch them as you are, but since it_ is_ me...'

'It creeps you out.' McKay's bunched shoulders relaxed a little, as if he didn't feel quite so rejected. 'I guess if that psycho was fixating on me I'd be just as weirded out by all this as you are.'

'She was just so...unstoppable,' Sheppard sighed. 'It's a good thing you were able to sneak up on her or who knows what she might have done to us.'

'Yeah well, if it proves one thing, it's that she's not omnipotent. She told Daniel Jackson she was a god, but good as I am, I seriously doubt I could take down a god.'

Sheppard huffed out a laugh, amused by McKay's attempt at humility. He was really going to have to work on that. 'No, I'm thinking she's not really all that!'

McKay shuffled his chair just a little closer. 'I'm not supposed to tell you this, but apparently Daniel got a headful of what she and future you got up to...and it wasn't pretty. That's why you're out of here tomorrow – he's adamant you can't stay anywhere near her. He says she's some kind of baby-murdering torturer back where she comes from, and he doesn't think you and she ever had the kind of connection she claims you had.'

Again, Sheppard's skin prickled. She'd lied to him that they'd been close, even made a move on him, to lure him into her trap of trusting her. 'No...baby-murdering torturer really doesn't sound like my type,' he mused, wondering just exactly what Daniel had seen that he felt was too terrible to share.

'Anyway, considering that thing, whatever she is now, was a one woman killing machine, you are definitely best out of –'

'Don't you have somewhere else to be, Dr McKay?'

They heard Dr Fraiser's stern voice before the tapping of her shoes reached his bay, her expression showing just how annoyed she was that McKay had been talking to him about what Daniel had experienced.

'Er...no. You told me to rest up this evening, remember?' he snorted.

She glared at him, arms folded, lips tight.

'And by that I mean, "Yes,"' he quickly back-peddled. 'I was just heading off to my quarters now. See you, Sheppard.'

McKay departed quickly like a dog with its tail between its legs, leaving Fraiser in his wake, her manner almost instantly changing to her usual good humour in his absence.

'I'm sorry about that, Major. I didn't even realise he was in here. I guess he slipped by me.'

He shrugged. 'That's okay. I didn't mind the company.'

She looked a little surprised, as if McKay's company had never been appreciated by anyone, picking up his charts and leafing through them. 'Really? Well, I'd rather he wasn't filling your head with all sorts of worrying stories when I need you to get more sleep.'

He laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose again to try to clear his still woozy head. 'Trust me, it's nothing that's not in there already.'

'I suppose.'

She took hold of his wrist, testing his pulse. He knew she'd find it a little high, but figured after everything they'd gone through earlier that was to be expected and she'd make allowances.

'Why doesn't anyone think I should know what Daniel saw when Sarayah attacked him?'

Fraiser's deep brown eyes flashed up to his, reflecting her annoyance that Rodney had told him that once again. 'Because tomorrow morning you're out of here and Sarayah will no longer be your problem.'

He stared back at her, hoping his best hang-dog look would wheedle more information out of her. When it didn't, he slowly nodded, accepting that decision. He already had enough junk in his head from his past and present to last him a lifetime. No point in dwelling on things to come before they even happened. 'I guess you're right.'

'Of course I am, I'm a doctor,' she smirked. 'Now I insist you do what you can to put these events out of your mind and focus on what's important...you're alive and you're going home.'

'I will,' he promised, and he meant it, although he knew it wouldn't be easy.

She squeezed his shoulder in that way she always did when words weren't really enough, then left him alone again. Alone apart from the haunting feeling that he was still being hunted.

oooOOOooo

The next morning, accompanied by a chorus of thank yous and goodbyes, Sheppard made his way to the surface and to a car that was waiting for him at the North Entrance. He felt a little sorry to be leaving McKay in particular because he'd looked decidedly dejected as they'd shaken hands and wished each other well, as if he was losing his one and only friend. Though there was no denying McKay lacked anything that could really be called people skills, Sheppard had developed a high regard for his intelligence and a fondness for his acidic humour. In fact, he thought McKay might actually be the one person at the facility he'd miss the most.

At the surface, a young man, no more than a kid really, leaned against a humvee waiting for him to turn up. When he saw him approaching with his kitbag, the kid snapped upright and gave him a salute. 'Second Lieutenant Ford, United States Marine Corp, Sir. I'm here to take you to Peterson.'

'At ease,' Sheppard told him. 'Nice to meet you Ford. Now, no offence, but do you mind if we have the rest of this conversation on the move? I'm ready to get home.'

'Not at all, Sir,' the young man grinned, taking his pack from him and loading it in the vehicle. 'Jump in and we'll hit the road.'

The young lieutenant proved pleasant company for the journey, with a ready smile and a real enthusiasm for his job that was contagious. He told Sheppard that he'd started working at the SGC six months before and had taken a few trips through the Stargate in that time, likening it to being flash frozen and then forcibly defrosted in a split second. It didn't sound all that much fun to Sheppard, but the kid told him it was a real buzz, and he'd met a few crazy-looking aliens that made the whole freakiness of being dissembled and reassembled millions of miles away worth the trouble.

The further from the Cheyenne Mountain complex they got, the lighter Sheppard's mood became. He listened as Ford told him about his grandparents, never once mentioning his parents, leaving him wondering whether Ford was an orphan or if his mother, perhaps being a young single parent, hadn't felt able to raise him herself. He figured it would be too intrusive a question to ask, deciding the kid would offer up the information at some point if he wanted him to know. He never did.

For his part, Sheppard talked a little about his grandparents, too, making comparisons to the stories Ford told him, and never mentioning his parents either. No point in dragging the conversation down with his sorry tales. He felt happier than he had in days and he was determined not to sour things with unpleasant memories and regrets.

Eventually, they drew up at Peterson Air Force Base and Ford hopped out of the vehicle to escort him in, even trying to carry his bag, though Sheppard declined the offer. He might be feeling a little beat up this morning, but there was no way he was too bad to carry his own things.

'Well, Sir. It's been great to meet you. I hope you come by the SGC another time and maybe we could show you a little more about what we do there – maybe we could even take a trip through the 'gate together.'

'Maybe,' Sheppard smiled, shaking his hand. 'It's been a pleasure, Lieutenant.'

'Have a good trip, Sir,' the kid grinned, saluting him again.

Sheppard returned the gesture a little more casually, and then headed out to the waiting plane.

Within fifteen minutes, all pre-flight checks had been completed and they were airborne, leaving Colorado and the distinctive patterns of white circles and semi- circles of the airbase's outdoor museum arrangement far behind.

With the craft in the air, Sheppard finally felt like he'd left the SGC and his crazy time travelling, space-hopping stalker behind him.

Now he could go home and try to put together what remained of his shattered marriage. Somehow, he got the feeling that might be more of a challenge than trying to get to grips with Sarayah in the shadowy corridors of Stargate Command had proved the previous afternoon.

oooOOOooo

O'Neill tensed as the woman behind the force shields began to stir, the sedative she'd been subdued by and topped up with for the past twenty-two hours finally wearing off. She was evidently feeling a little the worse for wear – not that he cared about that – and rubbed at her eyes as if trying to focus on both he and Carter, who stood beside him, backed up by a dozen armed SFs at their rear.

'Good morning, freak,' he chirped, giving her a quick, tight smile. It was the best he could manage.

Sarayah didn't bother to reply, just staggered to her feet, stumbling around until she completely regained her balance. O'Neill had to admit to himself that he was impressed by the speed at which she recovered. They'd been topping up her dose regularly every time she'd shown signs of surfacing, and the last dose had been administered less than forty minutes ago. This was one formidable woman...or rather, thing.

Beside him, he sensed Carter shifting from one foot to another, a little nervy. He didn't like it when Carter got nervy. It suggested she wasn't entirely convinced they'd got this woman beat, no matter how many times she and McKay had gone over the figures for that box of shields. He looked over at her, and she glanced his way, her features rigid with tension.

For her part, now she was steady on her feet, Sarayah looked completely unfazed. She walked toward them, getting a face full of energy charge that knocked her back. O'Neill winced, but was glad to see it had at least had some kind of impact on her. Her brow puckered with confusion and concern, but only for a moment. Then she got back to her feet and approached the barrier again, stopping just short of it.

'What is this?' she demanded.

'This is your new quarters,' O'Neill quipped, rocking on his heels as he smirked at her. 'It's not as luxurious as your last accommodations, but, you know, that was before you went all psycho killer energy being on us.'

'Energy being? Is that what you're calling me?' she asked.

'Well, that's one of the things we're callin' ya',' he informed her. 'And it's pretty much the only thing I'm happy to repeat in front of polite company.'

Apparently she got the joke, because a faint flicker of a smile threatened to break out, though she managed to control it. She reached out and touched the wall again, getting a shock in her fingertips as it repelled her. She shook out her affected digits, and once again O'Neill found himself flinching on her behalf.

'Still there, huh? That's a little inconvenient for you,' he joked.

'How long do you plan to keep me like this?'

'Just as long as it takes for us to return you to your previous state,' Carter told her, stepping up to the mark. 'We think you were sent here via some kind of experimental Stargate that has somehow altered your genetic make-up, weakening the bonds between your cells. Dr McKay and I are working on a way to re-establish the correct connections and return you to some form of normalcy.'

From what Daniel had told him of the visions she'd forced into his head, there wasn't much normal about Sarayah to begin with in O'Neill's opinion. But making her more confinable would definitely be a plus. 'So your days as an energy being are numbered, and then we'll have to go back to calling you all the other things I can't mention.'

'Where's John?'

O'Neill glanced Carter's way again, catching her anxious expression. This woman's absolute obsession with the man was deeply unsettling, and he'd come across some weird things in his time. Perhaps it wouldn't have seemed so worrying if the undercurrent of danger pulsing through her wasn't so strong. But it was there, and he didn't doubt for a second that she would kill every one of them if it meant she could get to Sheppard.

'He's gone,' he told her, raising his chin. 'He set off for home several hours ago. I doubt you'll be seeing him again.'

'Is that so?' she asked, looking worryingly unconcerned by the news.

He'd expected anger. He'd expected panic. He'd expected railing. He hadn't expected amused acceptance...or maybe this wasn't acceptance. Maybe this was confidence that she _would _see him again. She'd known a lot of things she shouldn't have when Daniel had spoken to her yesterday, maybe this was another of those things she'd managed to listen in on. 'Yeah...that's so,' he assured her, narrowing his eyes. 'If you're lucky, maybe he'll send you a postcard, but don't go holding your breath on that.'

Sarayah drew herself up and looked him straight in the eye. 'Amusing as you are, O'Neill, I'm growing tired of your company now.'

'Well, I'm sorry to hear that,' he smirked back at her. 'Especially since we're all the company you're gonna have for the foreseeable future.'

She cocked her head, a slight smile curling her lips. 'And you said you wouldn't underestimate me.'

She closed her eyes and seemed to disappear for just an instant, reappearing on the outside of the shield just in front of them.

O'Neill grabbed a momentarily stunned Carter and dragged her back behind the line of fire while troops shouted warnings to the woman to remain exactly where she was or they would fire.

'Carter?' O'Neill yelled, both furious and scared that Carter could have got things so wrong.

'I don't know how she did it, Sir. I suppose she may have been able to figure out the pattern changes in the resonance of the shield and somehow make her own cells resonate in the same way.'

'Smart woman, that one,' Sarayah growled. 'I can see why they gave her the command of Atlantis rather than handing it to a man like you.'

Though he was sorely tempted to order the SFs to fire on her, O'Neill held that order back. 'Give yourself up and agree to co-operate and I promise you won't get hurt.'

The woman just stared back at him, clearly untroubled by his threat. She looked around at the gathered troops, all with their weapons trained on her, and simply replied, 'Funny, I was just about to say the same to all of you.'

And then she vanished, right there in front of their eyes, becoming nothing more than glistening dust swirling and dispersing, the bullets of the SFs whistling straight through the spot she had just occupied. She could have left without incident, but obviously figuring she needed to punish them for their attempts to contain her she intermittently manifested in her true form, somehow drawing strength from the environment and flooring every last one of them, Carter and O'Neill included, before finally vanishing from sight.

They gradually dragged themselves up, O'Neill checking Carter was okay since she'd taken quite a blow to the head in her collision with the wall behind them. She nodded to say she was fine, and O'Neill staggered to the alarm, setting it off. What the hell they were going to do to track her down was beyond him, but the alarm seemed like as good a place as any to start.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh oh...enough said! XD Thanks again for those reviews...they're food for my muse while I finish up this tale.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The journey from Peterson had been blissfully uneventful, and Sheppard was just heading to the taxi bay after his flight when his cell phone rang, showing the number he'd programmed into his phone as NORAD. Sam had been very specific that there should be no reference to the SGC on his phone and that was the cover they all used.

He flipped open his phone and answered immediately. 'Sheppard.'

'_John...Hi, it's Carter. We just wanted to check everything's okay with you,' _he heard Sam stammer.

That was odd. He'd promised to call once he was home, so why was she calling him now? 'I'm good, thanks,' he replied, his instincts immediately telling him something was wrong. 'Any particular reason why you're asking?'

There was a definite pause before she answered his question. _'Uh, yeah. We've encountered a slight... problem.'_

He had a horrible feeling she was going to tell him they needed him to come back. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he asked, 'What kind of problem?'

Another pause._ 'I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news but...Sarayah escaped.'_

It felt as if his heart actually tried to leap out of his mouth at that point, his throat suddenly closing and his pulse pounding madly. 'Escaped...h...how? I thought you guys had her secured,' he managed to force out.

'_Yeah, so did we...but apparently we got it wrong. It seems we calculated the –'_

'And you thought she might come after me?' he interrupted, not in the mood to take another one of her long-winded scientific explanations, although he actually found the pauses in her responses more troubling than the words. Again, Carter hesitated, as if thinking through the best way to word things. He could almost see her chewing her lip at the other end of the line.

'_Since she doesn't really know anyone else on this planet and she's fixated on you, it seemed the most logical place for her to head.'_

Sheppard looked around him, feeling instantly paranoid. 'Well, I haven't seen her, but then she doesn't know where I'm headed, does she?'

'_I hope not. Just take care, John, and stay in public places for the time being. We're gonna have someone escort you home.'_

Now he was the one chewing his lip. If they were deploying troops to protect him, they evidently thought Sarayah was coming after him. Waiting for a party of noisy travellers to pass by so he wouldn't be overheard, he replied, 'After what happened back at the SGC, I'm not sure how much good that'll do.'

'_If nothing else, it'll make us feel better. Just sit tight and wait for them to turn up. Your flight only left to return to Peterson a short while ago, and we've ordered it to turn back so the SFs on board can ride home with you. They'll be twenty minutes tops.'_

He glanced at his watch; it was just shy of 1400 hours. He guessed he could head back inside and get a coffee while he waited. 'Okay, I'll back inside and wait for them to show.'

'_Good idea. Remember, stay in a public area and keep your eyes open .We're working on a way of tracking her right now, so if you keep yourself safe we'll have her back here before she can do any harm. We'll be in touch.'_

He cut the call as the line went dead, looking all around him again. Tracking her was all well and good, holding her seemed to be the problem. So he had to stay in a public place, huh? Washington National Airport certainly ticked the box. He was surrounded by people here, very few of them paying any attention to him, none of them giving any more than a glance and a brief smile as they met his eye. All he could see whichever way he looked was a seething mass of faces, those with long dark hair catching his attention most. But none of them were Sarayah. After scouring the crowds milling around the airport entrance and assuring himself she wasn't lurking amongst them, Sheppard headed back in through the airport's glass doors and over to the first coffee house he saw.

The line was pretty long, but he figured he could order a take out, not that he wanted to spend the whole twenty minutes standing in line with his kitbag until his escorts arrived. Around him, people chatted happily or children sat at tables waiting for their parents, impatiently calling for them to hurry up with their drinks and snacks. Not one of them had any idea of the potential danger he was in, or that they could possibly be in if Sarayah decided to show up. But she couldn't travel that far that fast, could she? Maybe she, even in her disassembled form, would have to travel in a plane, floating in the air in the cabin and avoiding getting breathed in. The thought sent an involuntary shudder through him, then he realised he had no idea whether the way she moved adhered to any laws of physics he even pretended to understand. What if she could fire herself across the galaxy like those Stargate-powered wormholes could? She could appear anywhere at anytime...she could be here watching him right now. And suddenly, being out in the open amongst innocent members of the public seemed like a poor choice. He was putting them in danger, women and children amongst them.

All thoughts of coffee now abandoned, he wove his way back out to the taxi bay, feeling suddenly crowded. People pushed and shoved toward the door almost sweeping him along with them, men, women and children, all happily making their way in and out of the airport. This was not a good place for him to be...at least not for them. And he had little doubt that the presence of other people would do little to stay Sarayah's hand. What had McKay called her...a baby murdering torturer?

Figuring he could beg Sam's forgiveness later, he hailed a cab and jumped in, giving the driver instructions for his destination. Carter hadn't said waiting for the SFs was an order, so he wasn't officially doing anything wrong in making his own way home. Finally away from the airport and the crowds he began to relax a little, realising that all his suppositions and fears had probably been nothing more than figments of his overtired mind. America was a big country; the chances of Sarayah finding him were slim at best in a place as vast as this.

He was seriously looking forward to getting home, taking a long shower and sleeping until tomorrow morning in his own bed, whether Nancy was there or not. Fixing his marriage would have to wait until he'd had some rest, because in the state he was in right now, he was likely to say or do something that would just make matters worse without even meaning to.

As he filtered out the droning sound of the various political insights of his driver, a big, middle-aged man full of opinions about the war that were either unhelpful or uneducated, Sheppard's thoughts of Nancy and a hoped for reconciliation suddenly shifted to something far darker. What if Sarayah knew _exactly _where he lived? She'd been inside his mind – they'd more or less proved that with the obvious physical effects and the nightmares. What if she'd found out his address or Nancy's workplace while she was in there? If she had, then it was very likely she had a good idea what Nancy looked like and could use her to get to him. Without even consciously thinking about it, he'd already slipped his cell phone from his pocket and was dialling Nancy's office. Whoever answered Nancy's extension said she wasn't at her desk. So he tried her cell phone, wishing he'd tried that one straight away and hadn't wasted vital time as the cab driver swung them out onto the freeway and set them off on their journey at a faster pace.

He selected Nancy's cell number and pressed call, waiting for the ringtone that would tell him he'd made a connection. For a while nothing happened, leaving him wondering if she was somewhere out of range. He watched the cityscape whizzing past out of the window to his right, cursing under his breath and contemplating hanging up and trying their home phone instead. Maybe she'd taken a day off, but if she had, why hadn't the person answering her work phone said so?

The sound of a ringtone interrupted his thoughts...a ring tone playing out on the seat right beside him.

Before he could turn, it stopped and a voice said, 'Hello, John. I'm afraid Nancy isn't able to take your call right now.'

'What the f –!' The final word of the driver's cry was drowned out by the screech of tyres as he swerved to avoid the car he'd almost collided with.

Sheppard turned toward the form he could now feel sitting on the back seat beside him, only to get a punch for his trouble.

'Where the hell did you come from, lady?' the driver screamed. 'What kind of a stunt are you two pulling?'

Sheppard was still reeling from the punch when he felt the blade of a knife press against his throat. She'd taped it to her handless arm, making use of what had once been her disablement. 'Shut up and keep driving,' she growled at the man, not even bothering to humour him.

'Where is she?' Sheppard demanded, ignoring the blade. 'What've you done with Nancy?'

'Wouldn't you like to know?' Sarayah smirked, pushing against his throat a little harder and nicking the top few layers of his skin. 'Nancy...Nancy...such a pretty lady...such a pity...'

'Is that a knife, lady? Are you mugging that guy in the back of my cab? I ain't playing no part in this. I'm gonna pull this car over and –'

It took less than a second for Sarayah to extend her left arm and draw it back, blood oozing out through her fingers. When she opened her hand, she was holding some kind of human tissue.

'There, that's much better...don't you think?'

A moment later the car began to veer to the left, crossing into the next lane and cutting up the traffic. The driver slumped forward, and it took a second or two for Sheppard to make the connection. She was holding part of his brain. The man was dead.

'Since you're the only thing standing between Nancy and a hideous death I suggest you try to gain control of this vehicle, John. I'll be waiting for you...if you're successful,' Sarayah told him, then she disappeared, leaving him alone to deal with the chaos she'd created.

Sheppard lunged forward and grabbed the back of the cab driver's collar, lifting his considerable bulk enough to be able to grab hold of one of his shoulders and drag him back away from the wheel. Catching hold of it, he managed to turn what would have been a high-speed collision into a glancing blow, the sound of scraping metal rattling his eardrums as he desperately tried to figure out how he was going to bring this crazy ride to an end. The man was literally a dead-weight, and his dead-weight foot was still on the accelerator.

Since he had little hope of taking control of the vehicle from the back of the car, Sheppard climbed into the passenger seat, from where he could at least reach the wheel more easily. He steered them onto the shoulder and prayed no one was stopped on it, as he desperately tried to pull the guy's leg off the pedal. Unfortunately, since the guy's waistline suggested he'd probably lived on a diet of hamburgers and hotdogs, keeping that leg up was proving impossible. The body reeked of tobacco and BO as he leaned over to the driver seat, trying to keep him upright with his elbow while holding the wheel and pulling back on that bloated leg. But he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't shift the body while the car was moving, and he couldn't stop the car while the body was in the driver's seat. This poor guy, who had done nothing more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time, was about to cause a potentially fatal accident. Sheppard was going to have to hit something to bring this thing to a stop, but what?

The sound of horns blared around him as he battled to keep the car out of the main flow of traffic, the vehicle's erratic changes in course and speed infuriating those around him. Despite his best efforts, he clipped the rear fender of a red sedan, sending it swerving off into another lane to a chorus of screeching brakes and more horns.

Sheppard managed to look up long enough to catch sight of a sign saying they were approaching an exit ramp, giving him some hope. Two miles, he just had to hold things together for two miles then he could get them onto a quieter road. So he battled on, though his muscles burned with the effort and his stomach threatened to rebel at his proximity to the odorous corpse, winging a couple more vehicles and shunting another into the next lane. This was insanity; did Sarayah really want him to die this way? If he sat back and relinquished all responsibility would she reappear and save him? Could he take the risk knowing she'd already been in contact with Nancy long enough to take her phone? She'd said he was the only thing standing between Nancy and a painful death. He had to survive this for her sake.

The exit was approaching, only one mile to go now, and still everyone around him remained oblivious to his unfolding drama inside his cab. As far as anyone else was concerned, he was probably a drunk driver, or a carjacker, just a criminal out for kicks. With any luck that meant someone had called the cops and they'd come to his assistance, though how he would ever explain the taxi driver's missing chunk of brain if they carried out an autopsy escaped him right now.

Nancy...he had to focus on Nancy. He had to get through this for her.

A car drew up alongside him, some know-it-all out to give him a piece of his mind...and then, for the first time, someone realised he was in trouble, as Sheppard frantically gestured toward the unconscious driver, drawing attention to his plight. The shocked driver of the blue chevrolet beside him nodded, jaw hanging, saying something to the woman sitting beside him. She leaned forward, looked aghast, then appeared to dial someone on her cell phone, not that Sheppard could keep much of an eye on them; he was too busy trying not to collide with them.

Confident help would soon be on its way, Sheppard found new reserves of strength to keep the car straight. The shoulder was clear, and up ahead the exit ramp was getting closer all the time. Once on it he hoped to see somewhere he could steer the car where he could do the least damage, to himself and everyone else around him.

So, pulling down on the right side of the wheel, he steered the cab onto the exit route, keeping to the shoulder and hoping no one came too close...and then he saw it...his way out. Though the road had barriers all the way along it there was a break ahead, fifteen feet, no more, but if he timed it right he might get through it and set the car on a route that meant no one else would be harmed.

With perfect timing, he threw the wheel sharply to the right and the cab swerved, shooting through the gap and off down a steep embankment of grass and rough ground. At the bottom were trees, lots of them, and there was no way he was going to avoid them all, so he strapped himself in and put all of his strength into lifting his lifeless companion's foot off the gas, hoping it would help.

The collision when it came shook him through and through, the sound of the hood crumpling and the feel of the hood crushing in toward his legs the last things he remembered as the car began to list and roll, and his head thudded against the side window, dazing him...

When things came back into focus, probably no more than a minute later, he was hanging upside down, the driver in a heap on the roof of the car right near his head. He could smell smoke, and much as he felt like just staying there a second or two longer until he got over the initial shock, he knew he didn't have the luxury of time. Smoke meant fire, and fire and gasoline were never a happy mixture.

He fumbled about for the button to release his belt, bracing himself with one arm against the roof as his weight tumbled beside that of the dead driver, both of them now crammed into that small space. When he tried to open the door it refused to give, far too buckled to budge. So he slithered through the gap between the top of his seat and the crumpled roof to get into the back, which, though damaged was far less folded.

His phone lay on the roof back there ringing but cutting off before he reached it. It was either Carter or that lunatic checking up on him, but he didn't have time to call them back right now whoever it was. Figuring he might need it to call for help, he grabbed it, shoving it in his pocket as he pulled the catch and shouldered the rear passenger door open. Crawling out onto moist, green grass, he realised how lucky he was to be able to appreciate the clean air and the softness of those fresh blades under his hot palms. Behind him, he heard the rush of flames igniting, cracking and spitting as they rapidly began to spread. So he pushed up and ran, stumbling several times until he finally fell to his knees and rolled onto his back, the traumatic events finally hitting hard and his body refusing to go on any further.

His whole body pulsed with pain from the impact, and now, finally out of imminent danger, he noticed the tang of blood in his mouth, and a warm, sticky trail on the side of his head from his tender left eyebrow all the way down to his jaw line. His vision swam, and for a second or two he phased out again, only rousing when the taxi fuel tank blew and he had to roll onto his face and shield himself from pieces of burning debris that came flying his way.

'Well, you had me worried there for a moment, but you always did have a knack for getting yourself out of seemingly impossible situations,' he heard a voice say from close by.

He didn't have to lift his head to know who was with him. In the distance he could hear the whine of police cars. They were most likely on their way to the scene, and the smoke would lead them right to him. Maybe if he could stall her...

'Why the hell would you do that, you crazy bitch!' he screamed at her, clambering to his feet, but immediately dropping to one knee with dizziness. 'I helped save your life in Afghanistan. I haven't done anything to you...Nancy hasn't done anything to you...just leave us alone.'

'You haven't done anything?' she echoed, strolling toward him until she stood over him where he'd dropped. 'When you found me I was barely alive. You did that to me, John. You hit me with a truck, then forced me into the Divine One's clutches and deprived me of my hand. You may have helped to save my life, but it was you who put it in danger in the first place.'

With a headache from hell now brewing behind his eyes, Sheppard was having real trouble getting his head around the way this woman thought. 'But you're punishing me for something I haven't done yet. How can you justify that?'

'I'm finished trying to justify myself to you. I am who I am, and you had no right to tell me the way I lived my life was wrong. I deserve some kind of recompense, and since I can't get to the John Sheppard who destroyed my life, I'll take it from the one I _can_ reach.'

Behind her, back up the bank, the sirens rang out loud and clear. Sarayah looked back over her shoulder as the cars pulled up at the breach in the barrier, officers jumping out and shouting to them, asking if they were all right. Sarayah snapped her head back his way, her eyes dark with anger.

'Time to go see Nancy,' she announced, reaching out and laying her hand on top of his head.

A moment later, Sheppard felt the uncomfortable tingle of his whole body breaking apart cell by cell...

oooOOOooo

The phone in Carter's lab rang, interrupting both her and McKay from their calculations. They'd been trying to figure out a way to make the force shield cage work once they'd managed to get Sarayah back to the SGC, but so far they'd been unable to fathom exactly what they'd done wrong the first time round. They blinked at each other, Carter seriously hoping this was someone calling to tell them Sarayah ad been apprehended, then she hopped off her seat and headed over to answer it.

'Carter.'

'_Sam, it's Daniel. We've just received news that John wasn't at the airport when his escorts arrived to meet him.'_

She sighed, rubbing her furrowed forehead. 'I told him to stay put! Have you tried to call him?'

'_Yeah, a few times...he's not answering.'_

'Dammit!' she hissed. 'Anyone see where he went?'

'_Apparently he was last seen getting into a cab outside the airport.'_

'Alone?'

'_According to the reports, yes.'_

A sense of relief washed over her. 'Well at least that's something. I'll be with you in a moment to help co-ordinate a search.'

She replaced the receiver, pausing a moment to let her brain digest what Daniel had said and begin formulating their best approach to the hunt for the missing major.

'Who's missing? Sheppard?'

She'd almost forgotten McKay was still there. She swallowed deeply, looking into his wide eyes and nodding. 'He apparently left the airport of his own accord, but now no one can contact him.'

'Well...maybe he just headed to a bar and turned off his phone. After what he's been through over the past few days I wouldn't blame him,' he suggested, but she could see from the way the colour had drained from his cheeks that he didn't really think that was the case. It was an uncharacteristic attempt to offer comfort, and she decided to accept it in the manner in which it was intended.

'Who knows? Just keep those positive thoughts coming, McKay,' Carter smiled, slapping his shoulder as she passed by him and headed out to meet up with Daniel. 'And keep working on those calculations. That way, when we do find Sarayah we have a definite way of keeping her here this time.'

She really hoped McKay was right and that Sheppard was somewhere happy and just not wanting to be disturbed. But something told her his silence spelled trouble, and, feeling responsible for Sarayah's escape, she knew she wouldn't settle until she got to the bottom of things, and Sheppard was safe at home. She took the stairs up to the floor where Daniel's office was situated two at a time, as if even those few saved seconds would make a difference. Something told her John was in trouble, and if he was in the kind of trouble she thought he was in, every second really might count.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: She's bagged him! Now to find out what she had planned for him...not that anybody reading here is interested, I'm sure! ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16 **

Images came and went, moving too fast for him to fully grasp. Everything slipped by him – thoughts, feelings, the world around him – and nothing was tangible any more...all was distant and surreal, out of his reach. Yet at the same time he felt part of everything, as if should he take a moment to learn to focus in his new condition he would be able to see anything, hear anything, understand anything. He tested that feeling, reaching out with his mind to see if he could understand what made his kidnapper tick, seeing thoughts, memories perhaps feelings of exhilaration at the pain of others. He saw the faces of terrified men and boys begging for mercy, he saw children, boys, beaten for failing to meet her standards, and he saw...no...no that couldn't be right! A baby strangled before she'd even cut the umbilical cord.

He landed on his back with a thump on a wooden floor, the first clue he was corporeal again. As he prised open his eyes he found himself in a large, empty warehouse, top floor from the look of the thick wooden trusses supporting the roof above him. Skylights and tall windows that broke up the red brick walls allowed sunlight to cascade in on him, warming his skin against the shock now setting in after the accident. So where was he? He sat up to a slap in the face so hard it floored him again.

'I didn't give you permission to do that!'

He glanced up at Sarayah, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. 'Do what?'

'Don't pretend not to know.'

He figured she meant read her thoughts, and shrugged. 'You never told me I couldn't.'

She kicked him in the ribs, doubling him over. 'Consider yourself told.'

'A simple "Don't do that again" would have worked,' he muttered pushing back up into a sitting position while holding a hand to his sore side to support it.

'Having seen inside my mind, surely you realise I'm not much for words.'

She grabbed his face and kissed him hard, hurting his mouth again with the brutality of the contact. In the instant their lips met he had a vision...if you could call it that. He couldn't actually see anything but, he was on his knees on a hard floor with someone kissing him just as she was now, and behind him he could hear something growling like an angry bear.

His...friend? Ronon?

She pulled back. 'Feel familiar?' she smirked.

'Thankfully not!' he lied, scrubbing his mouth on his sleeve. 'And don't go getting any ideas about trying to make it that way.'

Her smile broadened in what appeared to be genuine amusement. 'You always did have a problem with intimacy, and I never did quite get to the bottom of why that was.'

Bristling with annoyance that she found his hang-up so entertaining, he grumbled, 'I don't have a problem with intimacy – just intimacy with you. I hardly even know –'

A whimper from somewhere behind him pulled him up short. That had been female. Nancy? He was about to look for the source when Sarayah produced a gun from the back of her belt.

'Don't turn around, John. If you do, I'll shoot her.'

He froze, heart pounding. He wanted to check it was Nancy, to see what condition she was in, but he didn't doubt Sarayah would follow through on her threat if he did.

She whimpered again, sounding drowsy, confused, and probably gagged from the way the groan was muffled. Not being able to look at her drove him nuts, but he guessed that was the point. 'How do I know it's even Nancy if you don't let me look?' he challenged, trying to turn her threat on its head.

'You're going to have to trust me on that, John,' she told him, cocking the weapon as if to reiterate the challenge. 'And if you do exactly as I say, she just might come out of this alive.'

For a moment or two he thought about trying to disarm her. He was a trained fighter, how hard could it be? Then he reminded himself of the manner in which he'd travelled there, the difficulty he'd had even landing one blow on her the last time they'd clashed, the ease with which she'd sent the entire SGC into a panic, escaped from a supposedly impenetrable prison of force shields, ripped out a section of that poor cab driver's brain without leaving a mark on his exterior, and realised he was deluding himself. She had him completely outclassed. He wanted to protect Nancy, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do to get her away from this mad woman, except, perhaps do as he was told.

'Just...just don't hurt her...please,' he begged. He wasn't above doing that for his wife. If it had been his own safety or life at stake he would have given this woman hell, but not when Nancy was at risk.

'I think you mean "Don't hurt her any more than you already have",' Sarayah taunted, clearly revelling in his fear. 'But at least you had the manners to say please.'

Nancy groaned again, this time a lot louder and sounding considerably more distressed. It was almost too much to resist as he fought back the urge to see how bad things were. She was hurting, he could hear that much, but how badly he couldn't tell without being able to see.

'Just let her go, Sarayah. Nancy's never done anything to you. If you have a score to settle with anyone, it's with me, some time...some place...'

'And no matter what time and what place it is, you never seem to understand that you have no say in how I do things, including this.'

He knew he was in trouble the moment she lifted her arm. She brought it down on his temple, clubbing him with the butt of her pistol, and setting loose a flourish of fireworks in his vision. The warmth spreading down his cheek again told him that was another cut to add to his collection, his gut instinct telling him it wouldn't be the last, either. And if she could do this to him, feeling the way she did about him, she was capable of doing just about anything to Nancy.

Through teeth gritted against his pain and his desire to turn the air blue, he breathed, 'I'm sorry.'

'No, John. No you're not. Not yet...but you will be.' She strode past him to where he'd heard Nancy, calling back, 'Remember...no peeking.'

Nancy squealed, and it almost killed him not to turn around and launch for Sarayah, but he knew it would do neither of them any good. All it would do was prove he couldn't follow instructions.

'So, Nancy,' she drawled, making his skin prickle with the affected friendliness of her tone. 'You're the lucky woman who captured this man's heart. I suppose that makes you something quite special, doesn't it?'

Nancy squawked something into her gag, something angry and insulting. Sheppard flinched at the thud that followed, eliciting a whimper. His hearing now on heightened alert since he wasn't allowed to look, it sounded to him as if she'd been punched, most likely a body blow. His stomach knotted at the thought of his wife's pain. His fists bunching, he wished he could lay one stinking good blow on this woman who had walked into his life and wreaked complete havoc. But he couldn't, she was just too good.

'You know what, though? Your husband may look like the perfect man, but he's not as noble as he'd have you believe. Only a couple of days ago he was kissing me.'

Nancy sobbed, whether it was because of her pain or what Sarayah had just said wasn't clear, but Sheppard wasn't about to let Sarayah get away with it. 'That isn't true. You kissed me. I didn't make any kind of advances on you.'

'You didn't refuse, either,' Sarayah spat back.

'I asked you to leave.'

'After I'd kissed you...and don't pretend you didn't know what I'd come to your room to do.'

'I had no –' The bullet that bit into the oak floor only inches from his right kneecap and sent splinters flying in all directions made him think twice about finishing that protest. This was an argument best kept for another time, so he clamped his mouth shut and focused on the fact he needed to get his wife out of this alive, no matter whether she believed he'd willingly kissed Sarayah or not. She could chew him another one about that later if they both got out of this alive.

'Don't have an answer to that, eh, John?' Sarayah teased, and he listened to her footsteps echoing back toward him across the wooden floor boards, relieved that at least that meant she was focusing her attentions back on him.

The blade strapped to her right arm suddenly pressed in under his chin and she leaned over him, whispering, 'If you want to save Nancy, you're going to have to work harder than this, John. Much, much harder.'

The blade moved, and instead he got a boot in the back that sent him sprawling, refreshing the taint of blood on his tongue as his face smashed into the floor. Now his nose was bleeding too, and he wiped away hot smears of blood from his upper lip as she ordered him onto his back. Just beyond her, he could see Nancy for the first time, suspended upside down by her ankles from a beam with a cloth bag covering her face, most likely a pillowcase taken from their home and secured with one of his ties. She wriggled and sobbed and instantly his bloody nose was forgotten. 'Nancy!'

'Yes...there she is. Good old Nancy,' Sarayah sneered, stamping a foot down on his chest as she aimed the gun directly at his forehead. 'Poor Nancy. Sweet Nancy. Her only real crime is being on your side, isn't it? It seems so unfair that she has to suffer...unfair, but necessary.'

'No! Not necessary! Just let her go and I promise I'll do whatever you say,' he begged, not above that level of pleading if it would gain Nancy's freedom.

Sarayah just arched an eyebrow. 'You'll forgive me if I don't believe you, but I've heard that promise before,' she told him, her expression hardening. 'You swore to me you would atone if I spared your friends, but you didn't. You never do.'

She straddled him now, lowering herself until she was sitting on his chest, then, pressing the gun to his temple, she lowered her forehead to his. He was instantly consumed by pain, and images that flashed without any seeming sequence or sense rampaged through his burning brain, finally settling into some semblance of order.

_He'd been transported to another building, something like a warehouse too, but more rustic, all wood and no metal and brick, and filled with the overpowering smell of timber and sap. Sarayah was there, both hands included, because she was holding a gun on him with one and dragging him up from the floor with the other, guiding him up because his hands were restrained._

_'On your feet.'_

_She removed the bindings, leaving him standing in front of two people, people he didn't recognise, yet simultaneously did. Their images had flitted through his mind recently, and their names...their names were in his memory somewhere, but he couldn't quite grasp them yet. He returned his attention to Sarayah now, eying her dubiously as she reached into her top pocket and pulled out a syringe, sliding it across the floor to him._

_'Let's see how obedient you're feeling, shall we? Being in charge means you have to make difficult decisions sometimes, doesn't it, John? She gestured toward the syringe with her gun, indicating he should pick it up._

_He did so, clueless as to what it contained or what she intended him to do with it._

_Sarayah shifted the aim of her gun towards the honey-skinned woman's head. 'I wonder if you've ever had to make a choice quite as difficult as this one, though?' The woman's eyes widened, but he could see the quickening in her breathing and knew the calm was only skin-deep._

_'Whoa, easy,' he heard himself say, a sentiment that had echoed in his own thoughts. 'Just...just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it.'_

_'I want you to make a choice. That syringe you're holding is full of lantha berry juice. I want you to choose which one of your team to kill with it.'_

_His team? These people worked with him...were his friends? At some level he felt a connection, even though he knew at this point he'd never met them. He felt his older self's distress, his raging heart, his clammy skin, damp with panic, but it didn't register at an emotional level in quite the way it would his real friends._

_'I...I can't,' he stuttered, and he looked down at the syringe again. 'You can't ask me to do that.'_

_'Upset those sensibilities of yours, does it?'_

_Oh, she knew it did, all right. This woman really did know how to press all the right buttons. He'd never taken a life that wasn't necessary, something she presumably sensed in him. His heart still hammering at his ribs, he heard himself say, 'I will do anything you want – __anything__ –but don't ask me to do this.' It was a heart-felt plea, but all she gave him in return was a cold, hard stare._

_'You see, this is exactly what you always do,' she hissed, pressing the barrel of the gun to Teyla's temple. The woman closed her eyes, barely flinching. 'You walk into a situation where the rules are set, and you try to bend them to your will.'_

_'But...this...this is wrong. They've done nothing to hurt you.'_

_'They've allied themselves with you against me, just as the villagers did. That is enough. Now make your choice.'_

_Sheppard looked to the man now, Ronon, and saw him give a slight nod. Was the guy really giving up his life so easily? He supposed it was possible if Teyla was a good friend. He would do the same for someone he cared about._

_'I...I can't,' Sheppard said again._

_'Then perhaps you should give Teyla the poison. Would that be easier for you?' she asked her aim moving to Ronon._

_The big man kept his eyes on his, urging him to do it. He had no real sense of what Ronon meant to his future self, the emotions were starkly missing, but his physical reaction, the shaking and sweating, filled in the gaps. These two people would mean a lot to him. _

_'No...I...'_

_'Let me clarify things for you,'__Sarayah practically yelled at him. 'You don't have the option to refuse. You choose one, or I kill them both. As a leader and a military man, surely you see killing one is strategically the better option than losing them both.'_

_'You said if I came to meet you they'd live,' he protested, his voice now quaking with the pressure put upon him._

_'No, John, you're twisting my words. I said you had to come to me if you wanted to see them alive again, and here they are – alive as promised. I'm afraid your optimism was misplaced. I never said they would both stay that way.'_

As Sarayah sat back Sheppard surfaced from the images to fully appreciate the similarity in the current and future situations. Well, this time there was no one for him to choose between, so if she was going to suggest he kill Nancy or die himself that was an easy decision.

'You see now, threatening your friends wasn't enough. You still fought me, still twisted things around even though your friends' lives were at stake. So, I had to up the stakes. Friendship wasn't a strong enough bond to make you compliant, but I suspect marriage will be.'

'Just let her go,' he tried again. I'll stay with you...I'll do whatever you say... she doesn't deserve this.'

'She's coming between us, John. Of course she deserves this!'

Nancy sobbed through her covering, obviously frightened by the sudden shift in Sarayah's temper. It made him wonder what had happened between them before his arrival, how much this mad woman had threatened and frightened her to leave her so upset. Nancy was a strong woman; it was one of the reasons he'd been drawn to her in the first place. She wasn't the type to buckle at the first sign of danger.

'She's not coming between us,' he responded as calmly as he could with Sarayah still sitting on his chest. 'There_ is_ no us.'

The blade was up against his neck again almost as soon as he finished those words, her eyes flashing with the same kind of venom he'd seen in that memory. Then, she seemed to relent, lifting the pressure a little. 'I suppose it must be hard for you to believe what I say as this is the first time we've met as far as your life is concerned. But believe me, John, the universe draws us together, and that's why it's sent me here, now. Your marriage is over, John. Nancy doesn't love you.'

The words stung, but not nearly as much as the sobs they wrenched from Nancy. 'Whatever she does or doesn't feel, it won't make a difference to you and me,' he replied, giving no outward sign of how he felt about her words.

She stared down at him a moment, then pounced, her mouth smothering his, her hand clutching a gun beside his right ear, the bladed stump resting next to his left, and him pinned there trying to push her off, but having no more luck that trying to grab hold of fog. Whenever he made any kind of contact she seemed able to make herself disintegrate at will. He was powerless to stop her until she was done.

Eventually, she pushed back and gestured for him to stand. Furiously rubbing his mouth with his sleeve, he did as she suggested, backing up a few steps as he did so. He hoped that was some kind of sign she was about to let Nancy go, but her next statement showed how wrong he was.

'Time for a little test. Let's see how much you love that sweet little wife of yours, shall we?'

She disappeared and reappeared right in front of him, clubbing his temple with the butt of the gun and sending him staggering. While he was off-balance, she pushed cajoled and corralled him into a corner, where she trapped him and pinned him with her knife pressed to his throat again before he even realised what had happened.

'Now, John. Tell Nancy you don't love her or I'll cut your throat from ear to ear.'

Though his instant reaction was to call her bluff because of what he'd felt the night before, the anger in her eyes as she stared into his said she just might be crazy enough to see that threat. The old "If I can't have you, no one will" syndrome. Still, he'd never been the type to be bullied into anything he didn't want to do, and he wasn't about to allow it now.

'No way,' he grunted, groaning as the flat of the blade pressed harder on his throat and made it hard to breathe.

'Sure I can't persuade you?' she asked, leaning in and peering up at him, her breath warm on his jawline.

The stinging from the blows that had forced him into the position began to materialise in various spots all over his body now, threatening to weaken his resolve. He thought of Nancy, of how much she was probably hurting hanging there by her ankles to keep himself focused.

'Absolutely.'

She nodded, smiling her apparent appreciation as she withdrew her weapon and gave him more room. 'Now there's the John Sheppard I know and love. Stubborn to the bitter end.'

Ambling away from him, she approached Nancy, cruelly setting her swinging as if her situation wasn't painful and undignified enough already. 'Did you hear that, Nancy? Seems John loves you more than life itself. I wonder if you feel the same...'

Sheppard anticipated her next move and leapt forward as she pushed her blade to where Nancy's throat lay concealed beneath the pillowcase covering her face.

'Back off!'

Her shrill order ripped through the silence and bounced back at him from the bare walls, nothing in there to absorb and soften the sound. He instantly froze. What had he been thinking? But when it came to Nancy, he couldn't help but yield to his instinct to protect her. Except this time he had to, because he had the very real impression this woman would happily slaughter her in front of him just to make her point. So what the hell was he going to do to this woman to make her hate him so much...if hate was the right word? It had to be more than just the hand. She had to have a deeper grievance than that.

'Good boy,' Sarayah cooed, as if praising a trusted pet. 'Now you just stay right there while I talk to your delightful wife.'

With a frighteningly swift movement, Sarayah sliced through the tie holding the pillowcase over Nancy's face. His wife blinked against the brightness of the room, her eyes clearly sore and swollen from crying, while Sarayah moved behind her and cut away her gag, slicing away some of her long hair right along with it.

Nancy wasted no time in venting her anger, but was cut short when the butt of the gun in Sarayah's hand jabbed her in the stomach. 'Well! And you look like such a sweet girl,' she quipped, flashing a sharp grin Sheppard's way. 'So how about it, Nancy? Can you live up to the challenge? Tell John you don't love him or I'll bleed you dry.'

Locking eyes with his wife, Sheppard did the best he could to convey the fact she shouldn't do what he'd done. But maybe he didn't need to tell her that. Maybe it was true and she'd have no trouble telling the truth.

'I...I...'

He shook his head just the tiniest degree, but Sarayah saw it instantly. 'Now, John. No prompting. I'm sure Nancy knows how she feels.'

'I...' Nancy stopped, flinching as Sarayah pressed the knife harder against her throat. 'I don't love him.'

Even as she said it, he could see tears welling and running up her face with the pull of gravity. But what were those tears really for? The pain of her sense of betrayal, or at the way in which she'd been forced to tell him the truth. Sheppard pulled himself up sharp. That didn't matter, not here, not now. _Focus, John, _he ordered himself.

'Okay, you've had your fun with her. Now let her go,' he growled.

But he was wrong again. Sarayah wasn't finished at all.

'So you don't love him? That's good...very good, then you won't mind if I do this.'

She evaporated and reappeared in front of him in the blink of an eye, wrapping her knife wielding arm around the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss so violating that he almost puked in her face. He tried to free himself, but once again she seemed to melt beneath his hands every time he made contact. Eventually, when she'd had her fill of him, she withdrew, licking her lips while he, again, frantically scrubbed the taste of her away. The emotions he'd felt from her during that exchange had been overwhelming...nonsensical...a vast whirl of hatred and desire with no cohesive order. He had no idea what she truly wanted from him. Was that how it always was for her inside that crazy brain of hers?

'So, Nancy. Since you have no need of this pretty young husband of yours, I'll be taking him with me,' Sarayah called back over her shoulder, never taking her eyes off him.

He wanted to say 'No way', but it wasn't as if he had a choice. One touch from her and he had to do her will. That realisation sent a flip of nauseous panic through him. He was powerless. She could literally do whatever she wanted with him...and he was starting to get a pretty clear idea what that might be.

Sarayah circled him as Nancy's sobs grew louder, tearing into him with each shuddering breath. She stroked the barrel of her gun down his bare forearms, up to his shoulder, then to his neck before jabbing it up under his chin. His muscles quivered with the surge of adrenaline firing through him, making him battle harder with the urge to fight back. 'Not thinking of running are you, John? Because you know what will happen to Nancy if you try, don't you?'

'I'm not going anywhere,' he told her, gritting his teeth as she increased the pressure under his jaw. Apparently she didn't like his tone, so he reined it in a little. 'Unless you tell me to.'

That brought a smile to her face. 'Good boy. Now you're getting it.'

She circled behind him now, swapping the gun for her knife arm, and he realised why when he felt her left hand snaking over his shoulder then across his chest, finding the buttons of his shirt and undoing a few. What the hell was she doing? Was she really going to do this here...now?

Closing his eyes and swallowing hard, he tried to steady himself, aware now that her hand was resting over his pounding heart, feeling its rhythm. Her breath prickled the hairs on his neck, coming in short, excited pants. She was enjoying his fear...thriving on it.

'Stop it!' Nancy yelled, rending the awkward silence, and setting his heart thumping again. Behind him, he sensed Sarayah tense. She didn't like taking orders. Nancy had slipped up big time.

'But you don't love him,' Sarayah called over to her. 'Why do you care?'

_Don't say anything...don't say anything, _he silently pleaded.

Although he was willing Nancy not to speak, he knew she wouldn't be able to keep it in. She was frightened for him...she still cared enough to feel that much regardless of what there was between her and Grant, just like he wouldn't be able to hold his tongue if he saw this happening to a friend...to anyone. Nancy simply wasn't the type to stand by and allow injustices to happen without trying to help.

'He doesn't want you, can't you see that?'

Sheppard's heart sank. Much as he might be able to get away with that, there was no way Nancy would. He had to diffuse the situation.

'Maybe he doesn't, but apparently you lied because it seems you still want him. I don't like people who lie to me, Nancy. Are you ready to pay the price?'

The knife moved away, and Sheppard heard Sarayah pull her gun from wherever she'd tucked it, and spun to place himself between the two of them, keeping his eyes on that weapon. 'I lied too!' he blurted out, trying to divert her attentions to him. 'I...I don't really love her any more. I was heading home to tell her that, but I didn't want to have to say it here with all this going on. Just let her go, and I'll take her punishment. I'm the one who's really hurt you, after all.'

Her eyes burned into him as if reading his thoughts...and for one horrible moment he wondered if she already had and knew he was lying. His only hope of getting Nancy out of this was to make Sarayah think hurting her would have less of an impact than she thought...either that or make her want to hurt him more.

'That might not be a good thing to remind me of right now, John,' she growled back at him. 'Now move.'

Or it might be a very good time to remind her, and that was the way he chose to go. 'No way am I moving. And I swear, if anything happens to her, I'm gonna take your other hand off, too.'

The slight smile that had been tugging at the corners of Sarayah's mouth now slipped away completely. 'You're threatening me?'

His throat clenched, but he forced out the words, 'Yeah, I guess I am.'

'That would be a mistake.'

She levelled her weapon at Nancy again, up and over his shoulder, and Sheppard knew Nancy was suspended too high for him to effectively defend her unless he moved toward the gun and blocked the shot at source. He stepped forward, thwarting the shot again, panic making him change tactics once more. 'If you want something from me...some kind of repentance or compensation, one thing's for sure – you won't get it if you shoot her.'

Her eyes narrowed to black slits, her complexion flushing with colour, but he stood his ground. This was about to turn ugly, but at least while her attention was on him, it wasn't focusing on shooting Nancy. He tensed, preparing for a bullet. Sarayah, though, had other ideas. She evaporated then reappeared behind him, wrapping her arm around his neck in a strangle hold and dragging him to the floor where she proceeded to stamp on his body. All he could do was curl up against the onslaught because each time he tried to stop her or defend himself she simply passed right through him. She could change her form completely at will, making herself solid when it mattered.

'I will force repentance from you if it comes with your very last gasping breath!' she told him with each slam of her foot. 'This time, you won't wriggle your way out of it. This time,_ I_ am the one with divinity on my side. You sent me to be judged, and I was judged a god!'

A crunching stamp on his hip drew a yowl of pain, but when the initial rush of hurt subsided, he was left with a realisation that he still had something in his pocket, something she'd hopefully not just broken, that might just bring the troops from the SGC to their location. He rolled onto his knees, hiding his right side from her view as he slipped his cell phone from his pocket and hid in beneath his calf, peering around for somewhere safer to conceal it. He was lucky she hadn't felt it under her shoe; he couldn't take that risk again. But in an empty warehouse, the opportunities to hide it were severely limited.

The assault seemed to have ended, so he lifted his head to look at her, feeling the tug on tense muscles and bruised skin.

'I don't suppose that apology's forthcoming just yet?' she smirked down at him, her eyes glistening with cruelty.

'You let Nancy go and I'll say whatever the hell you want me to say,' he panted back, clutching at his aching ribs as he sat back on his heels.

'Always calling the shots, eh, John? How about this? Apologise or I'll shoot her.'

She aimed her weapon back toward Nancy without even looking, as if she could sense her position in the room without having to see it. All colour and heat draining from him, he opened his mouth to give her what she wanted, prepared to say anything she wanted to hear if it meant saving Nancy's life. But she didn't let him, holding up a hand to silence him before he could even begin.

'Of course, any apology you give me now will mean nothing because you won't mean it. And I want you to mean it. I want you to mean it with every screaming, tortured fibre of your being. Which makes Nancy surplus to requirements.'

The shot rang out clear and sharp, filling his head with its ear-splitting crack. Nancy's body jerked, and at first he wasn't sure if she was hit or had simply flinched at the sound. Then the crimson marker of what Sarayah had done began to soak its way through her pale grey jacket and her piercing cry drove into his heart.

'Nancy!'

He launched himself, trying to reach her, but the harpy between them stopped him in his tracks, shouldering him to the floor with force that belied her small build. Standing astride him, she glared down into his tear-filled eyes, her smile all the brighter for his obvious distress. 'Too late, John. It's done and nothing you do can change it. So, with no Nancy to get in our way that makes you mine for the taking.'

'Fuck you!'

She knelt down, resting her hand on his chest. 'All in good time.'

Sheppard managed to catch one last glance of his writhing, sobbing wife before his body broke apart into a billion pieces and merged with the universe once again.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks once again to everyone reviewing. If I haven't replied to you directly it's only because your account setting mean I can't. **

**You'll have to forgive me if I don't post tomorrow, but I'm heading out for the day to take my son out for his birthday treat and may not have time to do final edits before tomorrow. If I can manage it, I will!:)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17 (5184)**

O'Neill was tucking into his second piece of cake when Carter arrived at his table and rooted herself in front of him.

'We have a problem, Sir,' she told him, her eyes tracing the course of his spoon as he took another mouthful.

'Tell me something I don't know,' he muffled out as he chewed, trying not to spray his dessert across the table.

'Major Sheppard wasn't at the airport when our troops arrived.'

He stopped chewing for a moment, but refused to give up on his meal just yet. 'Probably got sick of waiting and headed home. He's had a tough few days,' he replied with a casual wave of his fork.

Carter folded her arms and made it clear she wasn't about to leave until he took the matter more seriously. 'They already checked his home. He wasn't there, but the house had been disturbed. There were items of clothing strewn around the bedroom and a pillowcase was missing from the bed.'

'So they aren't house proud. Maybe he went to meet his wife at work,' O'Neill ventured, his fork poised ready for another bite.

'We checked. She isn't there. No one saw her leave and there are signs of a struggle in her office.'

With a sigh, O'Neill dropped his fork into the bowl, admitting defeat. He pushed back from the table and started heading for the door. 'All right, you have my attention. Tell me everything.'

He heard her boots hitting the concrete floor as she ran a few steps to catch up with him. 'Our troops arrived approximately 20 minutes after we deployed them back to the airport, but Major Sheppard was missing. They asked about, and a couple of people said they'd seen him line up for coffee, then apparently change his mind. He left alone, taking a taxi from outside the entrance.'

'So...no Sarayah then?'

'Not up to that point. But his wife's sudden disappearance certainly shows signs of her involvement.'

'That's probably why he took off. It doesn't take a genius to figure that the crazy lady who's apparently stalked you through not only space by also time might target your wife. I take it he isn't answering his phone?'

'Not any more. We haven't managed to reach him since we called him at the airport and told him to wait for an escort.'

O'Neill took a sharp turn to the left at the end of that corridor, heading on through the circular passages toward General Hammond's office. 'So, what next?'

'McKay's currently tracking his cell phone. He should hopefully have a lock on it by now...as long as the battery hasn't run out.'

O'Neill flashed her a look, his stride faltering a little before he motored on. He sure hoped Sheppard took better care of his cell phone than he did. His was forever low on charge.

They reached Hammond's office and the general gestured for them both to come straight in and take a seat alongside Daniel and Teal'c, who were already there waiting for them. Daniel looked particularly strained, had done since his encounter with Sarayah, in fact. O'Neill had wanted to ask if he was okay, but they really didn't do the whole heart to heart thing...not even after everything Daniel had been through with his "death" and ascension. So all they'd managed was a quick, 'You okay?' followed by a, 'Yes, I'm fine' before they'd both got back on with the job.

He thought about asking the younger man again, but figured it was a redundant gesture. Daniel clearly wasn't fine, but they didn't have time to deal with that right now.

'All right, people,' the general began solemnly. 'As you're all now aware, Major Sheppard has disappeared en route to his home. We know he landed safely at the airport and was seen leaving there in a taxi, but his movements after that point in time are unknown. All we can say for certain is he never made it to his destination.'

'She has him,' Daniel muttered, folding his arms tight over himself. 'I know it.'

Carter flashed a look at O'Neill, one that mirrored his own concern for the archaeologist, but said nothing. Teal'c remained his usual impassive self, only the slightest twitch of an eyebrow indicating he'd even heard the comment.

'Well, without evidence we can't be sure, but that would seem the most likely reason for his and his wife's disappearance,' Hammond agreed. 'We're working on the assumption she's involved...which makes finding them all the more difficult.'

'How so?' the colonel asked.

Carter immediately stepped in. 'I haven't had time to bring the colonel completely up to speed on everything we've found, Sir,' she explained, and Hammond dipped his head to indicate she should go ahead. 'During our search of the facility after Sarayah's initial disappearance, it was found that a gun and a knife were missing, along with restraints, duct tape, various other sundry items and a kit bag. It seems that now not only can Sarayah make herself disappear, but she can take other things with her.'

'Which explains how Nancy Sheppard was able to leave her office without anyone seeing her go,' Daniel chipped in, seeming to shudder at the thought.

O'Neill blinked at him a moment while all that sank in. 'So, not only are we now chasing an invisible woman, but she can also move herself and her hostages at will?'

'Yes, Sir,' Carter nodded.

He frowned and chewed at the inside of his cheek, before announcing, 'Well, that's problematic.'

'Yes, Sir. Very problematic,' she agreed.

The moment was interrupted by a breathless and perspiration soaked Dr McKay, who had apparently run all the way from the labs where he'd been working to bring them news. He held onto the door frame as if he might collapse if he dared to release his grip on it, bending over and resting his other hand on his knee for added support.

'I...I tracked...his cell phone...signal,' he panted. 'It's in a warehouse in Philadelphia...currently vacant.'

'The perfect place to hide out,' Carter commented. 'We need to get a team down there to retrieve them. If we manage to infiltrate the warehouse and knock her out before she knows anything about it, we can bring her back to base.'

'Wait...there's more,' Rodney interrupted, holding up his index finger like a lethal weapon. 'I checked traffic reports en route from the airport to his home, and there have been reports of a taxi cab on the rampage on the freeway near the airport. Some witnesses saw a dark haired man estimated to be in his thirties wrestling to gain control of the vehicle because the driver had apparently lost consciousness, but when the car finally left the road and crashed, there was no trace of him.'

'And the driver?'

'Dead. We'll get nothing from him.'

'Well, obviously!' O'Neill snorted.

'All right, I'll organise a team to head in there and retrieve the major, his wife and most importantly Sarayah. And this time we keep her sedated until we're absolutely sure we have a way of containing her safely or preventing her from dematerialising. I'll also order the taxi driver's body to be sent to us for autopsy. We can't allow any unusual cause of death to be leaked out into the public domain.'

'Yes, Sir,' Carter said with a sharp nod. 'I'm working on another method of holding her already.'

'Help her out with that, Dr McKay,' Hammond ordered. 'Dismissed.'

The dismay in Carter's expression was all too clear to O'Neill as she accepted Hammond's order and followed McKay from the room. But she would work with him because she was nothing if not a consummate professional. O'Neill followed Daniel and Teal'c out, tapping his young friend on the shoulder. 'Hey, Daniel. You look washed out. Why don't you get your head down for a while...we'll handle this.'

Daniel just gave him a grim smile. 'Sleep isn't exactly what I need right now.'

Even Teal'c felt compelled to respond to that. 'You look exhausted, Daniel Jackson. I believe you should follow O'Neill's advice.'

'I'd love to, I really would, it's just that whenever I close my eyes...' His voice trailed off.

'What?' O'Neill asked, pressing him for more.

'Whenever I close my eyes I see everything that woman...that creature...showed me. I see what she's done to dozens of imprisoned men, defenceless babies, army troops supposedly under her command, and what she's done to John himself. She killed her own child in its first minute of life. And since meeting John she's killed indiscriminately in her attempts to overwhelm him. She wouldn't bat an eyelid at killing Nancy Sheppard to get to him...and I persuaded him to befriend her.'

'Under my instructions, Daniel. You have to stop beating yourself up about this.'

Daniel huffed out a laugh. 'I'm not the one getting beat up, Jack.'

'Look, if she wants some kind of sway over Sheppard, Sarayah's gonna keep Nancy alive.'

Daniel wasn't convinced. 'You don't understand her, Jack. She doesn't need him on her side. She needs his pain...she thrives on it. And I can't think of a single thing that hurts a man more than losing his wife.'

Jack figured Daniel made a valid point, although the loss of his son had to be on a par with the pain Daniel had experienced at losing Sha're. But this woman was capable of killing her own flesh and blood. Nancy Sheppard didn't stand a chance.

'We'll get them both out of there, Daniel. You wait and see, The Prometheus will take us over there and Sarayah'll be back here before it's time to hit the hay tonight.'

He didn't believe it himself even as he said it, and he could see Daniel didn't either, but he smiled and nodded all the same, then trudged away with his shoulders hunched and tense.

'Are we to join the rescue team, O'Neill?' Teal'c asked as O'Neill watched Daniel go.

'Absolutely. Let's get geared up and ready to brief those guys on what we're up against. They need all the information we can give 'em if we're gonna stand a chance of pulling this off. Hopefully we'll transport in and out of there before that freak has a chance to react to us.'

'Indeed,' the Jaffa agreed with a respectful dip of his head.

They covered the ground between them and the armoury in double quick time, the urgency of the situation hitting O'Neill hard as they ran. Nancy Sheppard's life depended on them getting this right. They could not screw this up.

oooOOOooo

Being ripped from the welcoming embrace of Mother Universe wasn't any less disconcerting the second time around Sheppard discovered as he reassembled in a place very different from that which he had left behind.

As his own thoughts and consciousness drew back into his body, they were tainted by an unfamiliar thought. _Medulsa. _Something about their new surroundings reminded him of the place. No, not him, it reminded her. She thought this place was like her home world. He knew it was Afghanistan. He could smell it on the air. The heat, the sand, the hint of moisture on the air from a recent burst of rain, they all combined in a unique way that smelled like no other place in the world.

He was lying on his back on dusty, rocky ground with the taste of dirt on his tongue and the hot sun beating down on his face, hundreds of miles from his injured, possibly dying wife. That thought made him bolt up to a sitting position, from where he could see Sarayah rummaging through what looked like a military kit bag, pulling out various items stolen from the SGC. She hadn't had that with her when they'd left, so she had to have hidden it here before the incident in the taxi, probably before she'd even taken Nancy. So the whole baiting scenario had just been for her amusement. And now Nancy was...

Before he realised was he was doing he was on his feet and lunging for Sarayah, not that it did him any good. She just dissipated like a mirage and then reassembled to look down on him where he lay sprawling in the sandy soil.

'Now, now, John. Let's not go wasting all our energy on futile fights,' she said, irritatingly calm after what she had just done.

In the grip of emotion so vivid and raw he had no hope of containing it, Sheppard dived at her again, doing damage only to himself as he hit the ground hard and grazed his hands and cheekbone. Not that it stopped him trying all over again. This time, Sarayah was ready for him and punched him down as he lurched toward her. But the knee jolting collision with the floor didn't slow him for a moment, and he was up and after her again, screaming obscenities, tears burning their way down his face and stinging his mounting injuries.

'Stop this! I've humoured you long enough and now my patience is wearing thin!' Sarayah ordered him, kicking him as tried to attack her again. 'Stay down or I'll be forced to take action!'

'You shot her!' he screamed, grabbing for her legs to topple her, but meeting nothing substantial. 'She didn't deserve that!'

As he looked up through his misted vision he saw her shrug, unperturbed by his charges. 'She was getting in the way. Besides, your marriage was over. She would only have stuck with you because of a sense of debt for getting her out of there alive. Would you really have wanted that?'

'I wanted her to live!' he yelled, swinging a futile blow at her. It passed through her middle as if she were a ghost.

'And I wanted to spend the rest of my life on Medulsa keeping the menfolk in check. Then you came along and spoiled all that. Things change, John. We have to learn to adapt. Nancy will be dead soon, move on.'

'So you've adapted by slaughtering innocent people to get back at me for something I haven't even done yet?' He staggered to his feet, blinking furiously to clear his blurred vision. If he could just time it right, catch her off guard, he could knock her out, and if he knocked her out...What? What could he do? He looked around at where they stood, isolated in the middle of what could possibly be the Helmand Province from what he could see. Who could he turn to for help here? Who would want to help a stranded American in a place occupied by Allied Forces? 'I never got the chance to say goodbye,' he choked, despair surging within him. His knees buckled and he sank to the ground overwhelmed by grief.

Before him, Sarayah merely smirked. 'A sentimental and futile gesture that would have meant nothing to her the moment she ceased to be. I saved you the waste of good breath.'

And that was enough to make his anger beat down his sadness. 'You lousy bitch!' he roared, throwing himself at her once more. And this time he made contact...

They fell to the ground with his hands at her throat. Her eyes bulged, as she clawed at him with her one hand, desperately trying to free herself from his stranglehold. The sense of power pulsed through him, the irresistible desire to choke the life out of his wife's killer making him strong, and for a few seconds she allowed him to enjoy the sensation...allowed him to convince himself that something had gone wrong for her and she couldn't change her form this time. Then, the panic and fear in her expression morphed into a cold sneer of contempt and he felt the solidity beneath his hands melt away, leaving him once again with nothing but handfuls of dusty sand.

He screamed out in utter frustration, his cries bouncing back at him from the surrounding rocky terrain and mocking him all the more. He'd never felt so out of control...so desperate, so animalistic in his desire to hurt someone. But she'd shot Nancy and left the blood to drain out of her like she was some poor senseless animal in an abattoir. How could he ever reconcile himself with that?

As he pressed his head into the dirt and let his tears run free, he heard the woman speak from somewhere behind him.

'Now perhaps you understand something of the sense of loss I felt, having my life stolen away from me, not once, but three times. Every time I rebuilt myself, along you came to tear me down again. Well, not this time, John Sheppard. This time, I have been judged in the right and granted the powers I need to bring_ you_ low. This time, you _will_ atone.'

The words sank in slowly, drilling into his brain, magnifying the injustice of it all. If what he had seen in the flashes she'd both unwillingly and deliberately shared with him were anything to judge by, his future self had been justified to do whatever it had taken to stop her. But one important fact kept screaming out to him as he knelt in the dirt and mourned his loss. None of that had even happened for him yet. His wife was dying, alone, terrified and in pain, because of something that hadn't even happened in his reality.

He lifted his head and turned, sitting now because he didn't have the strength to do anything else. 'All right, Sarayah. You want me to atone for something I haven't done yet, let's do this. But I promise you this, you_ will_ regret taking me on.'

Her smirk turned into a fierce smile, brightening with his rousing spirit. 'Would that be a threat...again?'

'You can count on it,' he assured her.

'Then it's time to teach you a thing or two about respect for your superiors.'

She rushed him, thrusting her hand inside him and unleashing a torrent of images and feelings that were instantly overpowering. It was as if a lifetime of memories were all trying to be remembered in a second – smells, textures, tastes, emotions, pain, elation, anger, obsession, they all bombarded him at once, filling his brain to bursting point. It was complete sensory overload. Sheppard swayed just a moment, before all his strength left him and he slammed to the ground, his brain shutting off to save itself from the onslaught.

oooOOOooo

A pain in his lower spine was the first thing Sheppard became aware of when he next woke up. It wasn't intense, so not an injury, more a dull, nagging pain. A few seconds later he realised something was digging into his back because he was lying on an uneven surface, and then the heat and the airborne scents registered in his awakening mind and reminded him where he was.

As he tried to sit up, he found his arms pinned wide at his sides, his legs spread and unable to move either. Squinting against the sun, he lifted his head and looked at his limbs, finding them staked out and secured with duct tape. He dropped his head back down, immediately regretting it as it hit the rocky ground and made his brain pulse. He hadn't thought this day could get any worse, but apparently for him it was just getting started. Was this Sarayah's great plan for him, to let him die of heat exhaustion and dehydration? If it was, she apparently didn't intend to watch it happen because she was nowhere in sight.

Since he appeared to be alone he figured his best chance of survival was to try to pull himself free of his bonds. That proved easier said than done when all his tugging and straining just resulted in raw skin to add to his troubles. The crazy bitch certainly knew how to restrain a person, one hand or not. There was no way he was getting out of this without help. Of course, now he didn't have his cell phone, the personnel of the SGC had no means of tracking him, but at least they would hopefully find Nancy and grant her some dignity rather than leave her rotting in that disused warehouse. His mind began to race through events in that building, wondering if there was something he could have done or said differently to save Nancy from that fate. And was she dead by now...? He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but an abdominal gunshot wound unattended was almost always fatal. The SGC might have tracked his phone, but they wouldn't mobilise troops until they felt certain they had a chance of containing Sarayah, a delay Nancy's condition could ill afford...Tears pricked at his eyes again, but he fought them back. He had to stay focused now. Crying over Nancy wasn't going to help her, and it certainly wasn't going to do him any favours. The tears would have to wait. He could mourn her when this was over.

After a couple more minutes of tugging on his bonds, a swirl of wind blew up out of nowhere, casting dust in his face and making him sputter. Sarayah emerged from the cloud and strode toward him, carrying supplies.

'I presume you're used to the local cuisine since this is where we were reunited,' she said without looking up from the pot of food she carried. She wore a bag across her body, one that looked Afghan in construction, so one she had acquired here rather than something else snatched from the SGC. 'If you don't like it I can soon find more provisions.'

She knelt beside him, using her stump to support the dish as she carefully set it down beside him.

It was a lamb dish, he could smell that much, aromatic and mouth-wateringly good to look at. Sarayah pulled the strap of the bag over her head to set that down beside the bowl, pulling out naan bread and bottles of water, plus some fresh fruit.

'The food's fine,' he muttered, dropping his head back to the ground and staring up at the sky. 'It's the company that stinks.'

Apparently, now that he wasn't trying to beat the crap out of her, she found his insults amusing. She chuckled as she dug down to the bottom of the bag and pulled out the last of the supplies, a couple of handfuls of nuts, and tossed them down in the dust.

'Now, which would you like to begin with? Perhaps a drink?'

He turned his head her way, looking at the tempting collection of bottles with condensation covering their surfaces. It was hot and his throat was burning up as dry as hell itself, but he was damned if he'd take anything from her. So he looked away.

'Not very talkative, are we?' she asked. 'Then I'll pick for you. Water first.'

He heard the plastic seal cracking as she twisted off the lid of one of those temptingly cool bottles. But still he kept his mouth clamped shut.

'Come now, John. Surely you wouldn't choose death over accepting a drink from me?'

Actually, that was exactly what he would choose rather than accept anything from the hand of his wife's murderer. He clenched his teeth harder, his jaw aching from the tension.

The sensation of icy cold water pouring onto his chest came as a small relief in the intense heat as she wasted some of their precious supplies trying to tempt him to succumb. But the coolness was soon gone as the water heated up in the warmth of the sun, and his momentary weakness passed.

'You know I'm not about to let you die after all the trouble I've gone to trying to get you out here,' she drawled, drizzling the water across his parched lips now. 'If I have to force you to drink, I will. By now, you must realise I'm not above such things.'

Resisting the urge to lick the short-lived moisture from his lips, Sheppard fought back the shudder her words evoked. Oh, yes, he knew what she was capable of all right. The few moments he'd spent dematerialised along with her had given him an insight into the workings of her mind he wished he could scrub right out of his brain, but figured was likely to haunt him for the rest of his days. And her deeds of those past couple of hours had certainly cleared up any doubts of the validity of what he'd experienced. She was a cold-blooded killer who felt no compunction about the deaths she caused. If someone was in her way, she simply got rid of them as if they were a worn out pair of shoes. No...no that wasn't true. She might feel no guilt, but he'd sensed pleasure at the demise of others. She didn't treat people with complete disregard. She was too cruel for that. Sarayah enjoyed killing. It was as simple as that.

'Maybe you _want _me to force you, is that it? Would that fulfil your impression of me? Would it justify the anger you feel toward me if I hurt you?'

Was this crazy bitch for real? Like he needed any more justification than he already had for the venom building inside him. He flicked his eyes her way and threw her the most hateful glare he could muster before looking away to the sky again.

'All right, have it your way. This certainly isn't the first time I've had to force you to eat or drink.'

Through a series of well placed blows from her elbows and knees she began to break through his defences. Though he resisted for as long as he could, the result was inevitable, and when he cried out, she filled his mouth with water, leaving him gagging on the quantity. Images and feelings flashed through his mind – the site of a hut with a stinking, fetid bed and her crazed face pushed into his as she yelled something about having her fun with him while she still could. He didn't know why he knew, but something told him the drink she was forcing into his mouth in those fleeting images was drugged and he had to fight her. Losing sight of what was real and what was merely in his mind, Sheppard bucked and wrenched at his bonds, spitting out as much of the water as he could as he strained to free himself from the tape tethering him.

'Calm down, John! You need the water...you need to drink,' she ordered him, as she sat on his chest in an attempt to keep him still.

Now the flashes fed him that same sensation – her weight on top of him, clammy hands forcing open his mouth and making him yield under the onslaught of pain and confusion. Again, he sputtered out the water, this time straight into her face. The next thing he felt was a punch connecting with his jaw, then another and another until the fight was knocked out of him. He lay gasping, the taint of blood on his tongue once more, hot liquid running down into his throat and causing him to retch. When the hacking finally subsided, he was left panting, weak and disorientated, and still with the crazy woman pinning him to the hard earth.

'You've fought me on many things, John Sheppard, but don't be so foolish as to fight me on this,' she said more calmly, making another attempt to pour water into him.

He twisted his head away. 'I won't let you drug me like you did those other men.'

His words seemed to genuinely stun her. She sat back, water dribbling out onto his chest as she forgot what she was doing and just stared at him, mouth agape. 'How...how can you know that? I ...' She clearly hadn't realised he could see her thoughts even when they weren't dematerialised together and the link troubled her.

'I know enough about you to know the kind of low games you pull, lady,' he assured her.

Apparently realising she had to prove herself before he would trust her, she put the bottle to her own lips and drank, then extended both arms at her sides. 'See? I suffer no ill effects. The drink is water, pure and simple. I don't need to use such tactics for control these days, John. Drugs would only dull your senses, and I want you to fully appreciate our time together.'

His lip curled involuntarily at the thoughts her words conjured up for him. But she appeared to be in earnest, the water having no affect on her.

'If I cut you loose, will you drink?' she asked him, giving that much ground.

He glared at her, wanting to refuse, but desperately thirsty. Did he really want to die out here in the middle of an inhospitable land with only this mad woman for company? No. Though his grief for Nancy left his life meaningless, he didn't want this woman to be his only companion as he left this world. So drink he would, even eat if it would appease her, and all the time he would be figuring out a way to get back at her, and to lead those from the SGC who would undoubtedly be hunting for her right now to their hiding spot.

He nodded his agreement to her offer.

She smiled, seemingly pleased by his answer, using the knife still attached to her right arm to cut first the pieces of tape at his ankles, then those holding his wrists.

She climbed off him and he sat up slowly, spitting blood out into the dust beside him and ripping the remaining tape from his wrists before feeling for any loose teeth. He didn't find any, just a gash inside his right cheek that was evidently the source. Sarayah thrust what remained of the bottle of water into his face, and he snatched it away from her, first washing out his mouth, then drinking the much needed liquid, instantly relieved by the cold rush as it swept down his raw gullet.

'Now isn't this easier?' she asked him, passing him another bottle as he finished that first one. 'You see how simple this can be when you behave? I'm stronger than you now, John. Stronger and smarter. Once you accept that fact, we can begin to find a way to make this work.'

He squinted up at her, the sun at her rear, her silhouette looming over him and casting him in shadow. Jeez, he detested this woman like no one he'd ever met before. And she clearly relished the fact, standing over him as he glowered like a chastised child on the floor in front of her. But eventually she would slip up, she had to...everyone did eventually. And he would be waiting for that moment, ready to pounce on any fleeting weakness, determined to give Nancy her revenge.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: The joys of having an over excited son who couldn't sleep this morning means I have managed to get some editing done after all, once I'd built the world's most complicated lego crocodile this morning courtesy of our day out to the Legoland Discovery Centre yesterday!**

**So, better late than never. I guess! Thanks for the continued support of all the people reading and reviewing this story. Your comments are really appreciated. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

O'Neill and his strike teams checked their equipment and prepared themselves for the operation to come. They'd all been briefed on what they were about to face before boarding the Prometheus, but nothing could really prepare them. They'd never come up against anyone with abilities quite like Sarayah's. So, they had to be quick and they had to be quiet. If they weren't she'd be gone before they could say, 'Surprise!'

The three storey warehouse was almost central to an industrial park, many of the buildings around it also now abandoned. It was an ideal spot to hide out since it was doubtful much traffic passed by it. It was also an ideal place to use the ring transporter without being seen by the good folks of Philadelphia. They'd selected a large disused parking lot far enough away from the warehouse to hide their movements, and planned to infiltrate the building via the duel entrances and stairwells from there. The plan was sound – if only the same could be said of their psychotic target. And since it couldn't, they'd brought along a medical team, just in case they were needed. O'Neill had a sinking feeling things might have already moved beyond that point, but he kept that thought to himself. The hope they were saving lives was what drove these men on.

O'Neill loaded his tranquilising darts along with everyone else sitting there with him, looking across at Major Lorne as he finished. 'You know what to do, Major. We've located Sheppard's cell phone on the upper floor, so we'll land in a clearing to the rear of the next warehouse and move in. You and your team take the stairwell at the north side of the building and check the second floor, we'll take the ground floor before heading up at the south end. Make your way up to the top floor and maintain radio silence.'

'Yes, Sir,' the major acknowledged with a dip of his head. 'Stairs to the north, nice 'n quiet.'

'And don't hesitate, Lorne. You give that woman a second's breathing space and she'll be gone,' O'Neill warned him. 'We have to knock her out or we've lost her again...that or she'll kill us where we stand.'

'Understood, Sir,' Lorne nodded again, snapping his chamber shut and cocking the weapon.

O'Neill received word from the bridge of the Prometheus that they were now in position over the warehouse and ordered them all to the ring transporter. They got into position, eight of them all back to back forming a defensive circle that covered all angles should Sarayah be waiting for them when they appeared.

They beamed in, O'Neill praying the distance between them and the warehouse would be enough to mask the sound of the transportation device. Since he couldn't get a clear view of the warehouse he had to hope that Sarayah wouldn't make their position either. Once they were certain the area they'd landed in was clear, he signalled to Lorne to move out, then took his own team, Teal'c and two marines, to the south side of the building, where they cut the padlock barring the door and checked the ground floor level before they headed to the staircase to begin their ascent to the upper level, the lack of any sounds of action on the second floor telling O'Neill that Lorne's team hadn't encountered any resistance up to this point either.

Though they moved as quietly as was humanly possible, each slight scuff of a boot on a step set O'Neill's nerves on edge. After years of travelling through the Stargate to previously uncharted worlds he'd thought he'd seen everything, but all too often something new and even more dangerous came along, testing their ingenuity and their mettle. He was starting to wonder if ignorance really was bliss, because the knowledge of what lurked out there in the universe waiting to pounce sure as hell didn't lead to many restful nights.

They reached the third level, the upper floor, and O'Neill raised his bunched fist to signal his team to hold their positions. The door ahead of them had a small window in it, the glass already broken. O'Neill decided he would risk a quick look through it to assess if he had a clear shot at their target without the need to put anyone else in his team at risk.

He moved slowly, getting in position under the glass and then gradually straightening his legs until he could peer through to the room beyond. On the other side lay a vast, empty space, with a few brickwork pillars and large wooden trusses supporting the metal roof. But there was no sign of Sarayah or Sheppard, or the major's wife for that matter.

He listened hard, hearing nothing to suggest the place was occupied. So he signalled to Teal'c to get to the other side of the door and open it for him, slipping through, gun poised, and expecting the worst.

His movement provoked absolutely no reaction, confirming his fear that Sarayah wasn't there. They'd missed them. He lowered his weapon, shoulders sagging. 'Dammit!'

Meanwhile, at the far end of the room, the other door was ripped open with considerable force and Lorne ran in, calling to him. 'Sir, we have something!'

O'Neill set off at a pace, Teal'c close on his heels, and when they rounded the second brick pillar where Lorne had stumbled to a halt, he saw what had the major so agitated. There, suspended from the trusses, hung the blood-soaked body of a woman, one he assumed had to be Sheppard's wife.

'Aw crap!' he groaned, his weapon arm falling limp at his side. Her ashen complexion, barely visible through the streaks of dried blood that had trickled up her neck and face told him all he needed to know. They were too late to save her. Even so, he couldn't stomach the thought of leaving her hanging there a moment longer than necessary. 'Teal'c, help me cut her down.'

Pulling his knife from his belt, O'Neill waiting until Teal'c had taken the strain of Nancy's body weight, and then reached up to cut the rope just above her feet. It was a good thing he was tall, because there wasn't a damn thing to stand on in there. How Sarayah had managed to get her up there was amazing, but with abilities like hers, he figured anything was possible.

Lorne wandered away across the hollow-sounding floor as the two of them lowered Nancy gently to the floor. Then he called over to them. 'Colonel, I found the phone.' He held Sheppard's cell phone up for him to see, its shiny casing covered in smears of blood.

O'Neill shook his head, an intense anger beginning to burn in him. 'Yeah, looks like she brought Sheppard here to watch her shoot his wife, and then took him somewhere else. What kind of a psycho would do –'

'O'Neill.' Teal'c was looking at him with as close to an expression of amazement as the big man ever got. 'She still draws breath.'

O'Neill's jaw dropped. 'You're kidding.'

He got down beside Nancy and checked for a pulse. Sure enough he found it, though it was frighteningly weak. O'Neill was on his radio without missing another beat. 'Prometheus, this is O'Neill. The warehouse is secure and we're gonna need that medical team down here now! Third floor.'

'They're on their way,' the static-laden voice from his radio responded.

He fumbled a pressure dressing from his tac vest while Teal'c assisted him by locating her injury and moving her clothing aside so he could apply it. 'I can't believe Sarayah just left her here to die like this. What the hell kind of a woman are we dealing with?'

'One very different from any we have known,' Teal'c responded with his usual brevity and accuracy.

Nancy gave the tiniest of whimpers, barely audible above the sound of the rest of the strike team's boots as they now approached across the wooden floorboards. O'Neill laid his free hand across her forehead, swallowing down the yell of frustration the situation made him want to let out. Instead, he said softly, 'Hang in there, Nancy. We're gonna get you outta here.'

Several grim faces surrounded them now, none of them apparently holding out much hope for the fragile looking woman in his care. He looked up at them, his temper finally snapping. Don't just stand there, go see where that medical team is for cryin' out loud!'

They all responded, 'Yes, Sir,' in unison, and darted from the room by the nearest staircase, seemingly happy for the excuse to vacate the premises and leave the scene behind them.

O'Neill gazed down at Nancy again, praying that the shallow breaths barely inflating her chest didn't cut out before the medical team could get there to help. This was heartless, cold, needless violence. This woman had done nothing to Sarayah, even if Sheppard himself had some time, some place. He shook his head again, looking over at Teal'c. 'You figure this is recompense enough for her?'

The Jaffa remained solemn as ever as he met his gaze with an even look. 'I fear not. If it were, I believe we would have found Major Sheppard here also.'

'Yeah, you have a point,' he murmured, gently stroking a few stray strands of blood-caked hair from Nancy's face. The thought of what else Sarayah would do to the major if this wasn't considered punishment enough made the blood in O'Neill's veins run cold and left him even more determined to ensure Nancy would pull through. Right now there wasn't a damn thing they could do to help the major himself.

oooOOOooo

By the time the sunset had painted the sky with hues of orange and violet and the temperature had dropped enough to make him shiver in the mounting breeze, Sheppard had heard just about as much of Sarayah's self-righteous bullshit as he could take. He'd listened to her version of their past...or rather future...how she had been a simple girl going about her life and causing no trouble to anyone before he'd come along, almost laughing out loud at her twisted view of the events he had only been party to tiny glimpses of, but knew were far from what she depicted. Sure, he hadn't actually been there, yet, but he'd felt his future counterpart's feelings toward this woman, God only knew how, and he knew he was innocent of the crimes of which she accused him. Every time she touched him, images of their future encounters flowed into his mind, like some kind of unwanted junk download when all you'd asked for was an anti-virus programme to keep crap like that out.

He sat with his back to a boulder, fighting to keep the images of Nancy's body hanging in that warehouse from his head, Sarayah's condescending tones continually buzzing at the back of his mind and pushing him to the limits of his self-restraint. As she sat a few feet away from him on a blanket she'd pulled from the kit bag, occasionally swigging from a canteen of water to make sure she didn't run out of lubrication, she continued to spout on about how the gods had seen fit to embellish her with special powers to keep his contrary ass in order, or words to that effect. Finally, enough was enough, and Sheppard decided he had to say something to shut her up and damn the consequences.

'Why don't you do the universe a huge favour and give your stupendous ego a rest for five minutes?' he grunted through gritted teeth, waiting for some kind of physical retort to his question.

To his surprise, her jaw just dropped a little. 'Why would you say something like that when you know how angry it will make me?'

'Because I couldn't give a crap about you,' he spat, then added, 'and because if you don't shut the hell up, someone is gonna find us out here.'

She sputtered out a laugh. 'Out here? We're in the middle of nowhere.'

'Which shows how little you understand about the terrain. People live all over these mountains, especially some nice folks known as the Taliban, and trust me, you_ really_ don't want to run into them.'

'Funny, you didn't seem concerned about that earlier when you were attacking me.'

That was true, he'd lost it and hadn't given a thought to the possibility of discovery. 'Yeah...well...I've had time to calm down since then.'

She shrugged, tossing her messy black locks back over her shoulder. 'Even if it is true, why should I care? What harm could they do to me?'

His gaze hardened, and he threw her a vicious smile. 'Maybe nothing, but if they sneak up and deprive you of the only hand you have left, I'm thinking you'd be pretty pissed.'

That seemed to shake her for a second or two, but she soon composed herself. 'I'm not afraid of them. They'd have to be very smart to out-manoeuvre me.'

'Trust me, they're smart,' he assured her, taking great pleasure as the worry returned to her expression. 'They're real smart, and they know these lands like the back of their hands. They could be in here, kill us both, and disappear again in seconds.'

'But they're mere humans, and I am so much more now,' she reminded him, reassuming the veneer of confidence that had momentarily slipped. 'Nothing they can do would surprise me.'

They both heard the click of a safety catch at the same time, their heads turning simultaneously in the direction of the sound. Just as Sheppard had feared, someone had made their position.

A wiry little man no more than five and a half feet tall was peering out from behind an outcropping of rock about ten yards back up the slight slope they were sitting on. He was kitted out in traditional Afghan garb...classic Taliban attire. The man screeched something in his native tongue, twitching the barrel of his Type 56 assault rifle skyward.

Sarayah looked to Sheppard, puzzled by the completely foreign language.

Sheppard raised his hands. 'I think he said, "Put 'em up".'

Oddly, she did so, the man instantly spotting her amputation and training his gun on her.

The little man unleashed another squawking outburst, jabbing the gun in her direction.

'Tell him I don't speak his language,' she ordered Sheppard.

'I'd love to, but I don't speak his language either,' he told her, holding very still as the gun now swung in his direction. 'I pretty much guessed the last line.'

'American?' the man asked, speaking his first intelligible, if heavily accented, word.

Sheppard clammed up, figuring silence was his best defence, but unfortunately Sarayah was feeling suddenly chatty. 'Yes...yes he is.'

Twitchy tensed, and Sheppard flinched when he yelled the next question. 'Military?'

'He pretends not to be, but he is. I found him skulking up here and looking through that. It's American air force kit, so he can't deny it.'

Twitchy glanced the way of the duffle bag she'd tipped her head toward, then sidled over to it, carefully bending down to examine the contents while all the time aiming his weapon their way.

'What the hell are you playing at?' Sheppard hissed at Sarayah. 'These are not the kind of people to play your games with!'

'Silence!' the man with the gun squawked. When he'd seen enough of the bag's contents, he picked it up and tugged it onto his shoulder. 'You, come with me.'

Sheppard waited for Sarayah to do something, but she didn't. She just smirked at him and headed toward the man, arms still aloft. As she passed their captor, he tugged out the gun she'd pushed into the back of her belt and then gave her a shove to hurry her along, something that earned him a sharp look, but, again, no further reaction. It seemed she really meant to go along with this. Well, maybe she did plan to, but Sheppard certainly didn't. This guy looked suspiciously like a photo on some intel that had been circulated about known Al Qaeda operatives. And if he really was Al Qaeda, they were in some seriously deep shit.

'Get up,' the man barked, twitching his gun again.

Not wishing to arouse any further suspicion, Sheppard got to his feet as if ready to comply, then trudged in the wiry guy's direction, acting defeated. So he thought he'd been smart enough to get the drop on the guy when he pivoted at the last moment and swung a punch his way. But apparently not, he realised when Wiry raised his gun and slammed the butt into Sheppard's temple before he could even make contact...

oooOOOooo

A sharp sting of pain beginning in his chest and radiating out into his limbs jolted Sheppard back to reluctant consciousness some time later.

His situation hadn't improved, in fact, it had taken a distinct nosedive since he'd last been awake, and he now found himself tied to a chair in the middle of some kind of hidey-hole, with no natural light and stale air that instantly robbed him of what little breath he had. Looking down, he spotted several electrodes attached to his chest, imagining how painful it was going to be to rip the damned things off later since they hadn't bother to shave his chest hair first. Then he wondered why he thought that was his biggest worry right now considering the dire straits he was in...especially when an Afghan male wandered into view pushing some kind of trolley baring the largest selection of torture implements he'd seen in any one place at any one time.

He allowed his heavy head to loll back and closed his eyes, pondering whether now would be a good time to start praying since he hadn't done it for quite some years. Maybe God didn't take kindly to people who only pestered him when they were up a certain creek with no means of propulsion.

The sound of several sets of feet shuffling in around him interrupted his thoughts, and when he snapped back to attention, he found he was facing no less than six Afghan men, all dressed in traditional attire.

The oldest of them all, a man whose face was again very familiar to him due to the two distinct scars at each corner of his mouth just visible through his straggly beard, broke the tense silence. 'If you think that was bad then you should consider complying now. That was just a taste of what is to come.'

Sheppard didn't remember offering up an opinion on their performance so far, but figured now wasn't the best time to point that fact out. The way those scars twisted up this guy's mouth gave him a permanent maniacal smile and he had no desire to find out if he had the personality to go with it. It brought to mind images of clowns...he really hated clowns.

'Now, tell me what you are doing out here. Did someone send you to track me down?'

Sheppard glared up at him, then his eyes drifted to a figure behind the men. It was Sarayah, and she was tied to a chair just as he was. So, either something had gone horribly wrong with her "super powers" and they were definitely heading up that stinking creek, or these guys were going to get the biggest and most unpleasant surprise of their lives some time real soon. Selfishly, he hoped it was the latter option. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.

Returning his attention to Chuckles in front of him, Sheppard quipped, 'Now don't go getting any delusions of grandeur. I wasn't sent here for you, I was brought here...by her.'

The group turned to look over their shoulders at Sarayah, snorting with derision. 'You expect us to believe that woman...that woman with her obvious injury...brought you here against your will?' the man asked. He looked around at the others, and once he began to chuckle, they all joined in too, their laughter mocking Sheppard as his heart pounded and his brain went into overdrive to figure a way out of this mess.

Beyond them, Sheppad saw Sarayah smirking, enjoying his humiliation. He really wished he could slap that look right off of her smug face.

The laughter stopped abruptly when Chuckles held up a meaty hand. 'What is your name, American?'

'Sorry...can't seem to remember. Must be that blow to the head your friend there gave me.'

Twitchy moved as if to strike him again, but received a signal to hold his position. Instead, the current was set loose through Sheppard's chest again, his fingers reflexively gripping the arms of the chair his wrists were tied to and his lungs seizing on an inward breath. Chuckles held him that way for thirty seconds or more before stopping the power, leaving him slumping and panting against the pain.

'Can you remember now?'

Sheppard took a few seconds to regain his strength before replying. 'Sorry...no...guess you fried a few more brain cells with that shock. Things are getting even hazier...'

He gritted his teeth in anticipation as the power was set free again, surging through the electrodes on his chest and contorting his muscles as it rippled out through the rest of his body. When he could prise his eyes open again, he saw Sarayah smiling broadly, the sick bitch revelling in his pain.

'Who sent you here?'

After first taking a deep breath to brace himself, Sheppard repeated his earlier answer. 'Like I said, I wasn't sent here. She dragged me out here. I was looking forward to a vacation...catching some waves, then a little R & R...'

Another blast from their device left him feeling like a fly after a collision with a bug zapper. He was sure he could smell his skin and hair singeing. And still the crazy witch at the back of the room found enjoyment in his suffering. His head lolled forward, too heavy for his weak and aching neck muscles to hold up any more.

'Maybe we should ask her some questions then. Perhaps _she_ would be more easily persuaded to give us the information we want.'

He snorted a laugh out into his chest, straining his head back up so he could look at her, now feigning fear as the men gathered their turned their attentions to her. 'Well, you can try, but it'll probably be the last mistake you people ever make.'

Chuckles snapped his head around in his direction. 'What do you mean?'

Sheppard chose that moment to clam up again. If these guys got on Sarayah's wrong side, more fool them.

Chuckles picked up a soldering torch from the tray of tricks and lit it, adjusting the flame as he strode over to Sarayah and held it in front of her face. 'So...is there something you want to tell us, woman?'

Her eyes huge and lower lip trembling, Sarayah gave a convincingly terrified performance. 'Please...please don't.'

'Then tell us what you know!'

'His...his name is Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force. His dog tags are in the bag somewhere. You can check for yourself.'

Sheppard hadn't even realised they were gone until she said that, but it made sense. Why else would these guys need to ask his name? Their captor turned off the flame and handed the torch to one of his companions, then snatched up the kit bag, untied it and tipped the contents all over the floor. In it were various items he knew belonged to him, clothing, his wallet, his passport, and yes, his dog tags, along with items of his clothing...even underwear.

'Those are my things...you took my things! Why would you do that?' he asked her, unable to understand the thought process behind this seemingly random selection of his personal effects. 'It's not like you even need my passport the way you travel!

'And that's something you wish to discuss right now?' she replied, her eyes flicking toward the large man with the hot flame.

'Silence, both of you,' Chuckles ordered, sharing his foulest scowl between the two of them. 'You speak when I ask you to answer a question and for no other reason, is that understood?'

'Perfectly,' Sheppard muttered, feeling a surge of panic hit low in his stomach as the man decided to leave Sarayah be and signalled for two of his henchmen to take Sheppard out of the chair. They cut his bonds at his wrists and hauled him to his feet, where he put up some small show of defiance by making himself as rigid and difficult to move as he could, but since he didn't exactly carry much weight he was easily manoeuvred into a new position, where he was cuffed into a set of manacles hanging through a metal hoop in the ceiling. This did not bode well...

'So let's try this again, Major John Sheppard of the United States Air Force. Why are you here and who sent you?'

'I already told you, no one sent m –'

The sound of something cutting through the air behind him registered a split second before the impact, then it took a second longer for the result of that impact to rage into life, first burning, then throbbing with a deep ache that pulsed across his whole back.

Hissing in a breath through his clenched teeth, he heard their captor speak again. 'Perhaps you would like to rethink that answer, Major.'

'You want me to lie?'

The leather whip sliced the air and made him start as its tip raised another welt on his skin. Sheppard dropped his head onto his suspended arms and bit back his cry as best he could, only the slightest of whimpers escaping, one so quiet he hoped no one else had heard it. He imagined Sarayah's face behind him, barely able to contain her glee as she watched his torture. She'd done this to him herself, his nightmares at the SGC had shown him as much, and his uncomfortable connection to her had given him a taste of her feelings on violence, feelings that left him convinced she truly was psychotic.

'I want you to be honest and stop spinning your web of lies.'

Another crack unleashed a blow that sliced high between his shoulder blades, the heat of the injury building and joining the steady, pulsing pain of those already inflicted.

'God dammit!' Sheppard breathed, his breath hitching as he almost choked on those few words. 'I'm telling you the truth. I'm not the one lying to you!'Another lash told him Chuckles wasn't buying it, but why would he? If some enemy military officer had told him he'd been dragged out into the mountainous regions of the Helmand province against his will by a one-handed woman, he'd have called him a liar too.

He let his head fall against his arms again and took the inevitable punishment his silence called on him. But what else could he say? Nothing that would make them treat him any more favourably, that was for certain.

Eventually, after several more jolting blows, the lashes stopped. A warm and sticky sensation was soaking into his shirt as he hung there, not daring to hope it was over. After his nightmare back at the SGC, he'd hoped never to experience a whipping first hand. Now he had, and it was every bit as gruesome as the dream had depicted it.

With his wrists and shoulders aching as he swung from his chains, Sheppard listened to the sound of squeaky metal wheels travelling across the hard and uneven floor surface, the various implements rattling on the top tray before the torture trolley came wailing to a halt in front him. He lifted his head to see that Twitchy had wheeled them to where he could have a better view of what was to come, and Chuckles was now examining them, choosing his next weapon. Sheppard found his attention morbidly drawn to the collection, wondering which would be selected and just how much damage these men would do before they either decided to believe him or killed him. The man touched on a set of bolt cutters, a battery powered drill, a meat cleaver, but finally settled on a knife. It gave Sheppard a sense of relief that he'd picked something so mundane from the selection on offer, a sure sign of just how messed up his life was right now.

The knife glinted in the artificial light as Chuckles pushed the flat of the blade under his chin and used it to lever Sheppard's head up to face him. 'I wonder what you are worth to your people, Major John Sheppard of the United States Air Force. Do you think your family would pay a fine ransom to have us release you? If you won't give us information perhaps you can be a source of funding for our cause instead. Tell me _Sheppard_, do you come from a wealthy family?'

Sheppard glowered, panting through his pain, refusing to answer the question. His family was extremely wealthy, but he doubted his dad would hand over a cent for him, and if he did, it would only be to prove once again that his youngest son was a failure and a continual disappointment to him. He hadn't asked his dad for anything in years now, and these weren't the circumstances under which he planned to start.

'If you don't answer, we'll just have to let the Air Force know we have you and they can contact your family for us. There are ways around your insolent silence.'

Not that he was feeling particularly insolent right now. Truth be known he was terrified, but he would never give the likes of Chuckles the pleasure of seeing that in his face, nor the raving harpy watching him from the back of the room. Oh, she would be enjoying this. Seeing him squirm had to give her some kind of thrill.

Chuckles moved the blade now, dragging it up the plane of his cheek so the point grazed the top few layers of his skin as it moved, trailing its way up to his eye socket, where he left it resting just beneath Sheppard's eyeball with just the slightest increase in pressure.

'Of course, no one will believe us if we don't send some kind of evidence that we hold you prisoner. We could film you begging for help, but I prefer a more...personal approach. You have very distinctive eyes, Major Sheppard. I suspect your family would recognise one if they saw it.'

The pressure increased just slightly again, breaking the skin and setting free a thin rivulet of blood. Sheppard held absolutely still, knowing even the slightest wrong movement now could cost him his eye. 'Oh, I dunno. They're not that special...'

'So, what do you think, Major? Do you want to help me with some information, or are we about to give your family a rather unpleasant reunion?'

'Not his eye,' a voice said, very firmly and very clearly from behind him.

All Sheppard could think was, _About time!_

Chuckles looked past him in Sarayah's direction. 'What did you say, woman?'

'I said, "Not. His. Eye.",' she repeated slowly and clearly, so there could be no mistake.

There was a slight decrease in the pressure behind the blade, but it wasn't removed as Chuckles peered over at her. 'What has this got to do with you?'

Sheppard couldn't see her, but sensed the smug certainty oozing from Sarayah's every pore. 'It has everything to do with me. He's my prisoner. I've only let you borrow him for a little while because you amused me. You're not amusing me anymore, so back away from him.'

After a pause, the man sputtered out a laugh and returned his full attention to Sheppard.

'I meant what I said,' she interrupted once again.

'Silence!' Chuckles erupted. 'Know your place, woman!'

Silence followed all right, but it wasn't a comfortable one. It was seething, angry and stifling – the proverbial calm before the storm.

'You know,' Sheppard said quietly, his voice strained with effort, 'the best thing you could do right now, is put us both right back where you found us and pretend none of this ever happened.'

His torturer frowned at him, puzzled. 'You joke with me? I don't think either of you two has fully grasped the gravity of the situation you find yourselves in.'

'Funny,' Sheppard replied, giving him a grim smile, 'I was just about to say the same thing. Don't say I didn't warn you.'

'Enough, the eye it is!'

There was almost no perceptible change in their surroundings, but Sheppard felt a cool breeze against his sweat soaked face and the knife was suddenly gone. So she really didn't want him to lose an eye? He supposed he found some comfort in that, though no doubt her reasons were nefarious.

Chuckles looked at his now empty hand in utter disbelief, stammering something in his native tongue that Sheppard took to be the equivalent of _"What the hell?"_ It definitely had that intonation to it.

'Shoulda listened to her, buddy,' he panted, watching as Sarayah rematerialised behind the man with the weapon in her hand.

The other men trembled, unsure what to do with their leader rendered speechless. This had to be way outside of anything they could have ever imagined might happen and Twitchy looked completely petrified, as if he suddenly realised that at no point had that woman been under his control.

'I'll be taking my prisoner back now,' Sarayah said softly, almost no threat apparent in her words. But Sheppard felt it. His spine tingled, alighting new waves of pain in his damaged skin. She was about to strike, and there wasn't a damn thing any of these men could do to stop her.

Chuckles barked an order that Sheppard took to be something to do with seizing her. The men all looked at each other, hesitating, and before any one of them could act, that same breeze filled the dingy room and every one of his five compatriots was disarmed in an instant, Sarayah reassembling at Sheppard's side once the task was done with several guns and other weapons tucked under her right arm.

'You boys are beginning to annoy me now,' she told them, rummaging through her collection as she struggled not to drop them. 'You know, this would be a lot easier if you hadn't stolen my hand, John.'

'Yeah...I'm real sorry about that,' he grunted, watching her pull out the Type 56 while dropping several other things at the same time. In the end, she opted to dump everything else on the floor anyway, freeing up both arms to better effect. 'Now, I'm going to give you charming men a chance. You have to the count of five to get out of here before I start shooting. One...'

The five henchmen gave each other a brief glance before scattering, knocking the trolley of torture devices and each other flying in their hurry to leave, not that it made any difference. Sarayah instantly broke her word, spraying them with bullets, some of which ricocheted off various items and leaving Sheppard fearing for his own life. One even skimmed his left side, tearing his shirt and breaking the skin. It was over in only a few chaotic, scream-filled seconds, then the five men lay bloodied and dying on the floor.

Chuckles stood trembling, eyes darting toward the gun, then back up to Sarayah's face. He clearly knew he was a dead man walking, the one thing he didn't know was how things would end for him.

'Seems they were spineless after all,' Sarayah smirked, pacing toward him. 'You're the only one who didn't run.' She tilted her head as if thinking. 'Does that make you brave or...stupid?'

'I will not be scared away by a mere woman,' he growled, but the quake in his voice showed just how scared he really was.

'Oh, but I'm no _mere_ woman,' she whispered, leaning in close to his ear. 'One...'

Chuckles hesitated for a fraction of a second his eyes meeting Sheppard's briefly in true terror, then he tried to flee. But Sarayah had other plans for him. As he reached the door, about to fling it open, she disappeared only to reappear right behind him, thrusting her hand into the back of his neck and jerking back hard, ripping out his spine where it met his skull, and leaving him dangling from it as she prevented him from falling to the floor.

'Seems he was spineless after all,' she quipped, finally letting him drop.

It was all Sheppard could do not to spill his guts on the floor.

'I'll gather our things together, shall I?' she commented, crossing over to where Chuckles had strewn the contents of the kit bag.

'_Our _things,' he echoed, wincing as the skin on his back pulled as he turned to look behind him. 'Could've sworn most of them were mine.'

'Now now, John. Surely you're not going to get all possessive over these material things after what I just did for you?'

Sheppard frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Remind me, what exactly _did _you do for me?'

She paused in her gatherings and hesitated before answering, as if amazed he needed to ask. 'That man would have taken your eye. I stopped him.'

Sheppard looked over at Chuckles's mangled form and pushed down another retch. She was right, he would have taken his eye, but if she hadn't set him up in the first place, none of this would have happened at all. 'Oh yeah, that,' he mumbled, finding enough strength in his legs to alleviate the pain in his shackled wrists a little. 'Don't rush with those things. No hurry. I'm getting used to the agony of hanging here now.'

He heard her laugh, something that sent a ripple of annoyance right through him. 'I intend to leave you right there until I'm finished. That way I know you can't get up to anything you shouldn't.'

Though he doubted he was fit for anything other than collapse, he couldn't fault her logic. While he was cuffed there, he couldn't cause her any problems or get in her way. Eventually, she appeared in front of him, a broad smile splitting her face as she reached out and smoothed sweat soaked strands of hair from his forehead. In the instant she made contact with him, his head filled with the sensation that he was hanging from a roof beam, his arm so painful it felt like it had to be broken, and his body covered in stinging patches of burned skin. And Sarayah was there, climbing up to him, her hands all over him, her tongue slicking a trail up his sweat drenched chest as he did his best to bite back his screams...

Sheppard snapped his mind back to the here and now in time to catch the lascivious look she was giving him, and for a moment he thought she was about to force him to endure further assault. Then, she hauled the kit bag onto her shoulder and rested her hand on his chest, sending a tingling through him that signalled they were now about to depart the scene of her crimes...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So Nancy is hanging in there (excuse the pun!). Hoorah! It's just a pity Sheppard doesn't know, although his outrage may just help him through this!**

**Thanks for all the reviews. Please keep them coming. :)**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19 **

Suddenly corporeal again, Sheppard landed on his back with a thud that made him yell out loud. They were out in the mountains once more, and just as before, exposed to anyone who might be hiding out there close by. Not wishing to go through that again any time soon, Sheppard bit back his groans. It wouldn't do to give the surrounding Taliban troops any clues as to their whereabouts...again. He rolled onto his side, but could do little to alleviate the pain his landing had caused to his damaged skin.

Though he really wasn't ready to move, Sarayah immediately set to hauling him up into a sitting position, tying his wrists in front of him with a zip tie so efficiently he realised she had to be able to manipulate the tie in some way with her unique abilities. The engulfing darkness made it hard to see how she worked, or that she was an amputee, but the mild heat and static tingle of his skin told him there was energy at work there, her handicap not slowing her at all. Then, with the faintest glint of moonlight illuminating the knife she pulled out of her belt, she moved around behind him and began cutting away his torn and bloodied shirt.

'What are you doing?' he demanded in a hoarse whisper. It was cold enough already without her depriving him of any clothing.

For a start she didn't reply, just continued to work, the chill air making his skin prickle and aggravating his already throbbing wounds.

He felt a harder tug as the knife slipped up behind his collar and sliced through it. 'Your injuries need treatment or they may become infected,' she replied, matter-of-fact, as she pushed the bisected shirt down his bound arms, her hand lingering on his exposed flesh a little too long for his liking. When she pulled away he listened to her rummaging around in the kit bag some more, hearing the slosh of liquid, then feeling a sudden sting as she applied neat alcohol to his shredded back. He cried out louder than he wanted to, and she immediately lifted the cloth she was using to dab him away, shuffling off somewhere nearby and then returning to shove a stick into his mouth. 'Bite down on this,' she ordered, then began to apply the alcohol again. By the end of her ministrations, the stick was splintering and had almost split in two, but it did the job.

'Lucky you brought that stuff,' he hissed as he removed the brittle bit from between his teeth. 'It's almost as if you expected me to get hurt.'

'Yes, isn't it? Now,' she breathed against his neck, setting his follicles bristling again, 'if you promise not to try anything stupid, I'll take off your restraints long enough to get some fresh clothes on you.'

He couldn't bring himself to utter the promise, but he raised his wrists where she could see them to imply his agreement. She leaned into him to cut the tie, pressing against his now dressed injuries in a no doubt deliberate attempt to agitate them. A second later the strip of plastic fell to the ground, releasing his arms long enough for her to slip his ruined shirt off completely then awkwardly steer them into a shirt, despite his resistance to much of the movement since it set free waves of pain and nausea that threatened to make him hurl. The shirt was made of little more than flimsy cotton fabric and more designed for a day out in the sun than a night in a cold desert, but it was better than nothing. And its pathetic protection against the cold desert air did bring some sense of relief, even if it was short-lived as the cold penetrated to his bones again soon after.

Once he was in it, Sarayah bound his wrists again before buttoning it, slowly...meticulously...with just her one hand. So restraints she would use her talents for, but buttons were worth making the physical effort? Yes, because they were intimate and embarrassing, unlike a zip tie.

'I can do that myself,' he said quietly, but she didn't acknowledge the comment and continued with her work. He sensed she was enjoying the task, along with the excuse for close proximity it afforded her. The silence between them irritated him, and his temper finally demanded to be released. 'So how far would you have let them go before stopping them?' he rasped, watching her face as the moonlight caught the glisten in her eyes when they flicked up to meet his in the darkness.

'Don't start an argument you're in no condition to finish, John,' she told him, struggling but finally fastening the last button she judged necessary before rising and walking away from him, cutting the conversation dead.

Undeterred, Sheppard struggled to his feet and paced after her. 'No, really, I'd like to know,' he hissed. 'If they hadn't opted for the eye so soon, how much more would you have let them do to me? Drill through my hands? Cut something else off to send to my folks?'

She spun to face him, anger flashing momentarily, then her stance relaxed and she simply shrugged. 'Perhaps I would have allowed them to take your finger...then you would have known something of what it feels like.'

'Is that why you let them electrocute me...and whip me? So I could understand your pain? Is that the kind of revenge you're looking for?'

He heard her derisive snort as she turned away from him again, her boots crunching in the dry dirt. 'No, that was just a bit of fun, and since you deprived me of my best whipping hand, I thought I'd let someone else do the work. Not that they did as good a job as I would have. Typical men. All brute force and no finesse.'

She headed back to where she'd left the pack, pulling out a jacket he instantly recognised as his and slipping it on to keep herself warm while, rather disturbingly, savouring the scent of him that lingered in its fabric.

'Somehow, I don't think losing your hand would make that much difference,' he grunted, battling with the urge to tell her to take the damn thing off and stop acting like a sex-starved whore.

Sarayah smirked, and reached into the bag again, pulling out the whip Chuckles had used on him earlier. 'Perhaps not. Would you like to test that theory, John?'

The cold panic the sight of that whip in her hand sent through him made his voice stick in his throat, his nightmare experienced back at the SGC rushing back to him. Her assault had been far more brutal than the one he'd just endured, even if her skills were markedly more refined. He shook his head in answer.

'No, I didn't think so. Now be a good boy and try to make yourself comfortable and get some rest. We'll discuss this tomorrow...if you insist.' She turned her back on him again, incensing him.

'You expect me to sleep after everything you've done?' he yelled, forgetting his fear of who might overhear them. 'You killed my wife, a cab driver, slaughtered a roomful of men, even ripped the backbone out of one of them after he gave you your kicks by torturing me. You can't hope to keep this up; someone found us earlier, and someone_ will_ find us again. And next time maybe it'll be you they decide to club round the head, then how do we get out of it?'

The next couple of seconds were a blur. A gust of wind buffeted him, then he felt the sensation of pressure, an odd squirming feeling in his abdomen, and he realised she'd rematerialised right in front of him, her hand penetrating his insides and gripping something in there tightly. He could barely breathe, felt his legs weakening, and all the time her piercing gaze held his through the darkness, unwavering as he began to wilt.

'Do you think I'm heartless, John?' she asked in a tone something akin to mild amusement. She brought her face in close to his until he could feel her breath on his skin. 'Do I disgust you? Then you're beginning to understand just what I am, and what I'm capable of, something you'll come to know only too well. It would take no effort for me to pull your guts out and let them unravel on the ground before us. How long do you think it would take for you to die out here if I did that? Minutes? Hours? Days? Shall we see how long it takes, John? Shall we see?'

He was on the verge of collapse, only her hand lodged firmly under his ribs now stopping his descent. His breathing laboured, his vision swam, and all the time he could feel her hot breath on his clammy face, her lips brushing his skin as she spoke. It took every ounce of strength and breath he had left in him to wheeze, 'No.'

'Good,' she snapped, 'I'm glad. I would have hated our reunion to end so soon. Sleep well, John.' And then she kissed him hard on the lips before releasing her hold on his innards.

As soon as her hand was out he crumpled to the ground, dropping to his knees, then listing sideways as his brain went bye-byes. The last thing he saw as his vision tunnelled was a silhouette of Sarayah ambling away from him, licking his blood from her hand...

oooOOOooo

Sarayah huddled against the trunk of a nearby tree, wiping the blood away onto her clothes. Sheppard lay very still where he'd dropped, completely unconscious and oblivious to all that surrounded him, and she watched him, riveted by the sight as she always was. There was something almost graceful about him, his slender frame lying on its side in the scant light of the moon. It always amazed her how much strength, both mental and physical, was packed into that body, but it was undeniably true. Sheppard was a man with reserves of strength and courage surpassing anything she'd come across anywhere before...a man worth the time and effort she'd put into breaking.

She tugged her eyes away from him to gaze up at the foreign moon hanging in the sky, huge and white against the blanket of blackness, taking a moment to enjoy its beauty. This was an amazing planet, inhabited by many varied and fascinating peoples, and though she'd only seen most of it while connected to John's and Daniel's minds, it made Medulsa seem quite dull in comparison. Since she had no idea how long it would take to change things before Sheppard was due to leave for Atlantis, she figured they could see his world together, never in the same place twice if she so desired. She could drag his reluctant carcass from one side of this globe to the other for as long as she cared to, enjoying everything this Earth had to offer. No one could stop her doing whatever she pleased, wherever she pleased now...but she wouldn't do that really. She'd brought Sheppard here because she'd sensed his deep loathing of the place and what it represented in his life. Not that he hated everything about this country. Far from it. She actually sensed a great admiration for the majority of the people who lived there in such difficult circumstances and troubled times. But there were those he knew as "insurgents"...those like the men she'd killed earlier, and those people he despised in much the same way he despised her...although perhaps not quite so much.

As she looked over to where Sheppard's motionless form remained sprawled she pondered whether killing Nancy had been a step too far. Sheppard's reactions were raw and unpredictable, displaying levels of violence and anger he'd clearly kept in check when they'd met before. Age had matured him, and on those occasions he'd played a clever game, always biding his time and striking when she let her guard down. She doubted he was capable of such duplicity at the moment. His anger and hatred were too vivid to allow him such clarity of thought and planning. The intermingling of their consciousnesses while they'd travelled there had allowed her to experience his emotions in a way that she'd never imagined possible and she'd felt...moved. It reminded her of her own losses very early in life, and of how wretched they had left her. Perhaps she and he weren't quite as different as they both supposed.

Concerned by his continued lack of movement, Sarayah pushed up from the cold, dusty ground and wandered back over to where Sheppard lay. She nudged him with the toe of her boot, but got no response, not even a groan, so she squatted beside him and checked his vitals. His pulse was good and strong, and his breathing was regular, though quiet. His skin felt clammy to the touch as she stroked his damp hair back from his forehead, but no more so than the assault that had caused his collapse should have left him. He didn't feel hot, so he wasn't sick, just mentally exhausted and physically defeated...for the time being.

She rolled him onto his back, half-expecting him to react, but he remained out cold. So she decided to make the most of the opportunity to get close without him fighting her off, stretching out beside him and nuzzling into his neck, feeling his pulse against her lips, the sensation sending a thrill through her. Once again she held his life in her hands, and this time no simple mind games or trickery on his part would win his freedom. This time she could feel his presence...even his proximity, no matter where he was. And if he'd thought she was fast before, there was no way he could outrun her now. She had him trapped on this planet of his. It was time to serve his sentence and begin to atone for all he'd done.

She stroked his cheek, planting a soft kiss there, feeling an odd mixture of pleasure and anger at being so close to the object of her obsession. It still riled her every waking moment that she'd been weak enough to let a man get under her skin the way he had, yet she'd had no choice; she'd felt possessed from the very first moment he'd stood firm against her punishment on Medulsa and had thought of little else than bringing him low ever since. And still, some part of her, some long denied aspect of her personality, wanted him to want her...to love her even...and that was why she'd taken Nancy Sheppard's life. While that woman breathed, John Sheppard would never have looked at her the way she wanted him to...the way he had just for a moment in the Cheyenne Mountain complex. That kiss, stolen but at the same time shared, haunted her now, because she doubted anything in her life would ever come close to that level of passion again. He'd been tempted by her, maybe only momentarily, but for just a few seconds they had connected in a way that left her longing for more, if only to deny him what he wanted most just as he continually denied her.

The moonlight played on his features, so young, so untroubled in his slumbers, leaving her greedy for another taste. She gripped his jaw and turned his face toward her, smothering his mouth with hers, but his lack of animation left her more frustrated than ever. She needed him to give something back, whether it was passion or hatred, the two stirring such similar emotions within her that she really didn't differentiate between them. If she couldn't have his love, his hate would do. So killing Nancy had been the right thing to do; it guaranteed his hatred would never wane, and he would fight her at every turn.

Of course, in truth the best thing to do would be to kill him. That was the only way to guarantee he didn't travel to The Pegasus Galaxy and set their future battle in motion. But she couldn't help feeling the universe meant them to be together for a reason. Why else did they always find one another no matter what distance came between them? So they could live out their days on his world, battling each other to the bitter end, or until he broke...not that she expected that to happen any time soon.

A sound from behind her caught her attention. She lifted her head and listened, at first hearing nothing more, but then a tiny shift of loose stones told her someone was approaching, someone who was trying very hard not to be heard. In an instant, she broke apart, leaving Sheppard's unconscious form as bait to entice whoever dared to come near. A minute or so later a young man came into view carrying a rifle, shifting from rocky outcrop, to tree to shrub with a degree of stealth that might have worked against the inexperienced traveller in these lands, but not her. She knew more about stealth than this young man could ever hope to learn, her advantage making it easy to track him.

The boy, on the cusp of manhood but not quite there, edged cautiously forward, eyes darting from Sheppard's inert body to the surrounding landscape and back several times before he decided the man was unaccompanied and found the courage to approach him. Eventually, he seemed to understand that Sheppard wasn't about to leap up and ambush him, and so scurried over, squatting beside him and checking him for weapons before backing off again and heading over to the rucksack she'd left on the far side of the clearing they'd settled in.

He hunted through it, looking troubled by the selection of torture devices concealed within its canvas exterior. And then he found Sheppard's dog tags.

That certainly excited him, and he pulled out a radio he'd concealed beneath his waistcoat and began to jabber rapidly in his native tongue. Sarayah had no idea what he was saying, but imagined he was calling backup. Whoever these people were, whatever their argument with Sheppard and his kind, they clearly considered an American military man a valuable hostage, almost as valuable as she considered him.

But she'd had her fun with these Taliban types, and although watching Sheppard squirm under their tortures had been enjoyable, it hadn't been enough to satiate her appetites. They served no useful purpose; in fact, they were becoming something of a nuisance. In an instant she rushed into the youth's body, making him drop the radio and claw at himself, squealing at the alien sensation now gripping his entire body. She revelled in his terror, savouring the fear and confusion and the sense of futility, when nothing he did could rid him of her presence. But then she tired of his squawking and ended it, concentrating her energies and expanding, blowing him apart at a cellular level and ending his existence in an instant leaving no trace that he had ever been there.

She reassembled herself at Sheppard's side, looking down on his still lifeless form. Having no idea how much information the youth had passed on before she'd intervened it became essential that they move again, so she left Sheppard where he lay and quickly gathered up their scattered things, shoving them back into the kit bag, all except a zip-tie, which she then manoeuvred around her prisoner's ankles and pulled tight. There was work to do before morning, and she would have to leave him alone while she did it, so securing his ankles would ensure he didn't have the opportunity to act on any desire to run he might experience on waking.

That done, she shouldered the pack and then knelt beside him, laying her hand on his chest and concentrating, expanding her own ability to disintegrate to embrace his body, too. And then they were on the move once again, Sarayah seeking a place they could hide away from the world and they could begin their battles afresh once Sheppard resurfaced from his dreams.

oooOOOooo

With his breakfast abandoned through lack of appetite, Daniel watched Nancy Sheppard in her infirmary bed from a discreet distance, not relishing the task O'Neill had set him. The woman had barely been conscious for half an hour following her life saving surgery the previous day, but they needed any information she might have about Sarayah's whereabouts and they needed it now. Though it went against his principles to trouble her with questions so soon, the urgency of the situation demanded someone had to ask them.

At this exact moment, Janet was running through some checks and making Nancy comfortable, something that didn't make him feel a whole lot better about the fact he had to disturb her again. But Janet was aware of his instructions, and gave him a sympathetic smile as she departed the room and left him to his task.

Nancy was facing away toward the wall when he entered so he couldn't actually see her face, and he was right up beside the bed before he heard her snuffling and realised she was crying. Though he felt like the biggest heel ever, he pressed on, knowing every second could be vital to getting John back safely.

'Mrs Sheppard?'

Nancy lifted her arm and wiped at her eyes before turning her head toward him, her IV line swinging and tugging with the movement. 'You can call me Nancy,' she croaked, her voice weak and cracked with emotion.

Daniel instinctively flinched at the way that IV pulled, then remembered that she was on a good supply of pain meds and probably hadn't felt a thing. Once her attention was fully on him he gave her his warmest smile. 'Hi, Nancy, I'm Daniel. How are you feeling?'

'Not good,' she admitted, the final word catching as she struggled to keep her tears in check.

'No, I imagine you're not. Would you mind if I kept you company for a while?'

She shook her head, apparently unable to speak for the moment. He pulled up a chair beside the bed, considering his best approach. 'This must all have been quite a shock to you,' he began carefully.

'Yes...I've never been sh...shot before. I had no idea how much it hurt.'

'No...I'm pretty sure it's something you have to experience to fully understand,' Daniel agreed, 'But you're gonna be okay now. We'll take good care of you.'

Her eyes darted around the room, taking it all in as if for the first time. 'Where am I?'

Daniel looked in to her huge, imploring brown eyes and felt her confusion. 'A military infirmary, that's all you need to know right now,' he told her.

'All I need to know?' she repeated, her agitation mounting. 'I hardly think that's all I need to know right now.'

'Well, no...you're right...'

'Where's my husband?'

He'd been expecting the question, of course, but he still didn't know how to answer it. He figured honesty was the best policy. Lies would only muddy the water and he needed her to trust him completely. 'Right now we don't know. We were hoping you might remember something from your ordeal that might give us a clue where Sarayah might have taken him.'

Nancy turned her head toward the wall again as her tears got the better of her, the mention of Sarayah's name apparently too much to handle. Daniel gave her a moment to regain her composure, watching her wipe at her face and then offering her a handkerchief when she finally turned to face him again.

'Thanks,' she sniffled, dabbing at her puffy eyes.

'So, do you remember anything at all?'

She shook her head, her lip quivering. 'She wasn't big on conversation.'

'No...no, I bet she wasn't.' She hadn't been very talkative when she'd attacked him either. He forced back the memory and concentrated on comforting Nancy. 'It must have been terrifying.'

'Who is she, Daniel? Or maybe that should be what is she? And what does she want with John?'

A change had come over Nancy. She appeared to have dug deep into some reserve of strength and pulled herself together to get to the bottom of things.

'I...I wish I could tell you but –'

'If you even think of saying the word classified I swear I'll scream!' she snapped, trying to sit up. The movement clearly hurt, and Daniel pressed his hand to her shoulder to encourage her to stay still.

'I'm sorry, Nancy, but it's true. You don't have a high enough level of clearance.'

Her mood turned bitter as she shook her head, huffing out a laugh of disbelief that pulled at her tender stomach stitches. 'I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard that sorry excuse,' she grumbled, holding her midriff. 'I was attacked by whatever that thing is, it assaulted and kidnapped my husband and nobody knows where the hell he is. Now I want to know what you people are doing about all this!'

Though surprised by the force of her question, Daniel had to admire Nancy's strength. Less than twelve hours ago she'd been brought in close to death, and now she was fighting for the welfare of her husband with all she could muster.

'We're doing everything we can –'

'Well, it's not enough!'

This time she clearly hurt herself, Daniel's own stomach knotting in sympathy at her discomfort. He reached out and laid his hand on her arm, not certain she would welcome the gesture. Thankfully, she didn't shake him off. 'You need to stay calm, Nancy. Making yourself worse isn't gonna do either you or John any good. Now I swear to you we won't stop looking for John until we find him. We have the best people working on this problem and I have every faith they'll find a way to track Sarayah down and free him.'

Nancy's tough facade fractured again, and her tears welled up. She fanned herself and tried to cover her emotional state. 'What kind of an infirmary is this? Why are there no windows? What do I have to do to get fresh air in this place?'

'Trust me, Nancy. This is the safest place for you right now. Sarayah escaped from here , so this is probably the last place on Earth she'll want to head back to.'

'Which is of absolutely no help to John!' She let her head fall back against her pillows and covered her eyes with her hand, the shaking of her shoulders telling Daniel she was sobbing now.

He slid his hand down to her left hand that remained on the bed and gripped it tightly to reassure her he was there for her. 'Believe it or not, I know how frustrating this is for you. My wife, Sha're, was kidnapped, too.'

She moved her hand a little to look at him. 'By that woman?'

He shook his head. 'No, by someone else.'

'And did you get her back?'

The truth of the way his wife's story ended hardly seemed an appropriate discussion at this point, so he put the best spin on it he could. 'She's free now.'

'That's good,' Nancy said, before her face crumpled and she began to cry again.

Daniel just sat with her, knowing this fear and anger was something she had to get out of her system. Eventually she spoke again. 'She made me tell him I didn't love him...but I do...it's just so hard sometimes.'

He squeezed her hand tightly again. 'It must be...perhaps for John, too.'

She nodded, holding his handkerchief over her mouth as she tried to muffle her whimpers. 'You didn't see how she treated him...I just want him back safe,' she said, dissolving into tears again.

He couldn't tell her he had a pretty good idea what Sarayah had done to him without even being there, that would have given away too much. Instead, he had to settle for reassuring her again. 'And we _will_ bring him back to you Nancy...I promise.'

She nodded, then told him she was tired, so he took that as his cue to leave. At the door, he turned back to give her another look, seeing her body shaking with each sob. His heart ached for her...for the two of them in fact. John and Nancy seemed like two people very much in love. He only hoped they could reunite them to give them a chance to work things out.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is the penultimate chapter before I take a few days off for Christmas...please don't throw things at me! I have entertaining to do and and two very excited little boys to manage and simply won't have time to do my final chapter checks before posting. I hope you enjoyed this one. And as always, thanks for the reviews, alerts, etc. If you haven't received a personal response to you comments it's only because your account settings won't let me do it. :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_The sound of someone activating his door chime made Sheppard reluctantly drag his ass off his bed and walk over to answer it. He found a woman...Teyla, his mind told him...smiling up at him on the other side of it._

'_John...when you did not join us for dinner I was worried...' she began, concern puckering her brow._

_He looked into her soft brown eyes sensing genuine warmth exuding from her, but he felt tense and he didn't know why._

'_I didn't have much of an appetite,' he heard himself tell her, watching her eyebrows lift several degrees._

'_Now I know I was right to be worried. You are rarely not hungry!' _

_She remained looking up at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an invitation to enter. He stepped back and made room for her to pass._

'_I suspect I know what is troubling you.'_

'_Nothing's troubling me. I think I may be coming down with something, s'all.' He knew it was a lie as soon as he said it, even though he didn't know what the truth was._

'_Then you will be too ill to take part in the mission tomorrow?' she responded turning to face him as the door slid shut behind him._

_He took in the room now, so many things within it familiar to him; his favourite Jonny Cash poster, his guitar, his skateboard, his surfboard...even his photograph of the time he'd met Evel Knievel as a kid. 'No, I have to be there...this all has to happen the way it did the first time...'_

'_It is understandable that you have reservations about this experiment, John. We all have them, even Rodney, though he will never admit it. I see it in his eyes when I speak to him about it...even he is a little afraid.'_

'_He told you that?'_

_Teyla shook her head. 'He does not need to. Rodney's emotions are never far from the surface,' she fixed him with an earnest look, 'unlike yours.'_

_Sheppard sighed and slumped down on his bed. He could read this Sheppard's thoughts now; he was worrying about an experiment McKay planned to carry out...something linked to Sarayah. 'He's the one who told Woolsey this was the right thing to do. What's he scared about?' he huffed, a twinge of panic at the thought Rodney wasn't as confident as he claimed to be churning low in his guts._

'_Nothing in life is certain...there is always...what is it Rodney calls it? A margin of error. Yes, that is it. He has run the simulation many times, and each time anything stored in the 'gate prior to its collapse is transferred through. But he cannot completely rule out the chance that it is possible that, if one element of the experiment changes...Sarayah could be lost.'_

'_So he thinks I'm gonna screw things up!'_

_Teyla's eyebrows lifted again and she leaned back, regarding him without judgment._

_Realising he'd overreacted Sheppard dropped his head into his hands and sighed. 'I'm sorry...I shouldn't be yelling at you...'_

'_There is no need to apologise,' she said, in her soothing, melted honey voice. He felt her hand creep into his and grip it tightly. 'Your feelings...whatever they are...are completely understandable.'_

_Though her touch felt alien, it was also comforting. He rarely allowed such contact, even with his closest friends, but he clung to her slim fingers, finding comfort in the warmth of her skin against his palm._

'_It...it took a lot of long hard soul searching over the years to convince me to keep doing this, to keep the timeline exactly as it should be. I...I guess...'_

_He felt a gentle squeeze on his fingers, urging him to continue. Talking wasn't something he was all that good at. He found it...painful to some degree. Talking meant exposing truths about himself that made him feel vulnerable. But this was Teyla; he sensed that if his innermost feelings would be safe with anyone, it would be with her. _

'_You guess?' she prompted, sensing his hesitance._

'_I guess the closer to the time of the experiment it gets, the harder it is to see this through.'_

'_Without following the sequence of events surrounding Sarayah's life as closely as possible, we may never find Janus' outpost where the experimental 'gate generator was located. And if the Wraith were to somehow find it instead...'_

'_I know, I know, and even though I pointed out to McKay that the Wraith hadn't been there in centuries because of the hive ship the 'gate destroyed, he has endlessly pointed out that it doesn't mean they won't try again and manage to find it if time resets again.'_

'_It is always possible that one small change to the fabric of time could have tremendous consequences,' Teyla nodded._

_Sheppard quirked an eyebrow, smirking. 'Has Rodney been talking to you about Chaos Theory again?'_

_She nodded, smiling along with him. 'He has mentioned it a few times over the past few days. I believe he is trying to convince himself of the validity of his theory.'_

_Sheppard nodded, chewing his lip. 'I...I just don't know if I have the strength to send her back knowing what she does. It was...'_

_Teyla laid her other hand on top of their entwined fingers. 'John, you are the strongest person I know. You will do this because you know the fate of so many could rest upon you taking the same action you did the first time. You will do this because you are the most selfless person I know. It is the gift the Ancestors blessed you with.'_

_He gazed at her, feeling a little of the tension that had seized him draining away. 'How come you always know what to say to make me feel better?'_

_She beamed brightly at him, clearly please to have helped. 'Because that is the gift the Ancestors blessed me with. And I am glad to share it.'_

A faint, pleasant breeze ruffling his hair woke Sheppard the next morning. At first he was confused by the smell of dust mingling with antiseptic, but then the throbbing in his back and side kicked in with a vengeance and he quickly remembered the events of the previous day.

His eyes snapped open to a different view from that which had surrounded him when he'd collapsed. She'd moved him, but they were still somewhere up in the Afghan mountains and he was cold...well, at least most of him was. His back felt warm, and it wasn't just the heat from his injuries – he became aware that he could feel someone tucked in behind him.

'Good morning. I was beginning to tire of having no one to share this beautiful sunrise with.'

Sarayah sat up beside him, resting her hand on his hip. 'Would you like me to help you get up?'

The question was posed as if she were a nurse in an infirmary, not the woman who had mercilessly murdered several people yesterday just to get to him. So Dr Jeckyl was in residence this morning? He peered over his shoulder at her, but realising he was unlikely to get up any other way since not only his wrists but his ankles were now bound, he was forced to give a nod of agreement.

She bounced up and stepped over him, catching hold of his upper arms and easing him up off the rough ground. He didn't thank her, just glowered, shuffling on his butt until he found a position he could be at his most comfortable in, though that was far from comfortable in the traditional sense of the word.

'Would you like some breakfast? I collected some things last night while you were out, so we have plenty to choose from.'

She crossed over to a pile of rocks and began to pull them apart, revealing a stash of food inside, safely concealed from any scavengers. There was bread, eggs, a small parcel of butter and some fruit, along with more bottles of water, and some pans for cooking.

'How many people did you kill for that little haul?' he grunted as she began to build a small fire.

She flashed him a sharp look, a warning she was in no mood for him to pick a fight already. 'None. I took these things while the family in the home I stole them from slept.'

'How very benevolent of you.'

'John.' Her tone left no room for misunderstanding. She wanted him to stop provoking her, and she would take action to stop him if he didn't

He dropped his head, sullenly staring at the dusty ground, hating the fact that even if he weren't restrained and injured he was powerless to escape her. It was like being grounded as a child, when his father had had the entire house staff watching out to stop him climbing out his bedroom window. Only this time he didn't stand a chance.

'So, what should I make for you?'

Her sudden kindness riled him more than if she'd slapped him awake. Cruel and heartless he could deal with, but this change...this unpredictability...threw him off balance. It actually made him feel churlish to rebuff her offer, but this was his wife's murderer, the woman who had callously handed him over to Taliban torturers for her own amusement. Nothing she ever did would make up for those things.

'I don't want your stinking food,' he seethed, fists clench within his restraints.

Sarayah looked him over, something that made his stomach lurch after last night's kiss, taking in his taut body language with an amused smile. 'My, my. Aren't we prickly this morning? Someone clearly needed more sleep.'

'Stop that!'

She blinked back at him 'Stop what?' she asked innocently.

'Pretending like this is some kind of cosy little vacation we're on! You and I...we're not an item, we're not even friends. You don't get to talk to me this way, get it?'

She was on him in an instant, food sent spilling in the dirt as she launched, disintegrating in mid air and reassembling as she landed on top of him, slamming him flat onto the dirt. 'I think you're the one who doesn't get it,_ John_,' she hissed, her lips twitching up into a fierce grin. '_I_ say what's happening between us now, not you._ I_ have all the power here. You have none. If I tell you to eat, _you_ eat. If I tell you to sleep, _you _sleep. And if I tell you to grovel in the dirt and kiss my feet, you'll do it. Understand?'

She squirmed her weight on top of him, forcing his bound hands up above his head and scraping his still swollen and bleeding welts on the rocky surface beneath him. He clenched his teeth and tried to bear it, but eventually she drew out the cry she was so determined to earn from him, leaving tears streaking down his cheeks as she set the injuries on his back alight again. He hated her proximity, hated the sense of triumph oozing out of her, but she had him beat and he had to admit it...for the moment.

'I understand,' he croaked, and after a few seconds of staring into his eyes with such intensity he felt sure she was about to defile him right there amidst the spoiled food and dusty earth, she thankfully sat back on her heels and nodded with a self-satisfied smile.

'Good boy, John. I knew you'd come around.'

Then she pushed up and left him panting there, too shaken and in too much pain to even think about moving. He heard her sigh as she realised their food was ruined, yet another casualty of her absolute desire to dominate him.

'Looks like I'll have to go get us some fresh supplies,' she grumbled, kicking through what remained of her first attempt to prepare breakfast. 'At least these survived.' He felt a thud as a bottle of water landed on his stomach, winding him and making him jerk his back against the dirt again. 'I suggest you drink that until I get back with more food. Oh, and John...don't try anything stupid while I'm gone.'

The slight breeze that disturbed the dust around him heralded her departure. For a second or two, Sheppard lay and stared up at the sky, the vast stretch of azure blue telling him it was going to be another hot day in this hell-hole with his psychotic companion. Then he shook himself out of it. What was he thinking? He was alone out here; this was possibly his one and only opportunity to get himself away from her. There were networks of caves in these mountains. If he could get lost in one of them, she might never find him again. Maybe he could make his way to the airbase at Kandahar and get help there. The scenery did suggest he was in that province now. Or maybe he could reach the AH01 and flag down an allied patrol. One thing was for sure, he couldn't do any of those things if he lay there feeling sorry for himself.

So he forced himself up into a sitting position again and began unlacing his boots, shutting out the pain from his injuries and using the water she'd left behind to lubricate his ankles and feet to slip them out of the tight, but not quite tight enough zip tie. Then slipping back into his boots, he got onto his knees and from there onto his feet and began to stagger away, each step sending a wave of pain through him, his determination to escape driving him on regardless.

He spotted a cave entrance not too far from their camp. He ducked into it, the cool, damp air instantly refreshing as the heat was already mounting outside. Once inside, he hesitated for a moment, listening for any sounds that might suggest the cave was already occupied. It was silent, but he knew he was taking a huge risk anyway. The caves were where the insurgents hid out from allied troops. If he ran into any of them, he'd be sliced and diced sooner than they could say "Allah be praised". But right now, they seemed a more manageable option than dealing with the freak with the deity complex.

Seeking greater safety in the dark, Sheppard wound his way deeper into the tunnel. The caves in this region formed a massive network and could lead just about anywhere or nowhere at all. Worst case scenario, he might get so lost he died of starvation, but again, even that seemed like a better option than facing his homicidal stalker.

Soon, the light from the opening was behind him, and all around was utter darkness. He was forced to grope his way along one of the cave walls, intermittently stumbling on uneven ground or grazing himself on unexpected rocky masses. Each unforeseen jolt awoke the discomfort in his back and side, but he held in the whimpers and edged onwards, hoping that if he kept moving he would eventually see a chink of the light which would lead him to an alternate exit.

And then, he saw it, a light up ahead. With something to aim for, he began to move with more purpose. It was far from certain he would find himself in better circumstances when he got back out into the open again, but he doubted things could get any worse.

As he got nearer to it he developed the distinct feeling the light was artificial, not natural. It was round and yellow in hue, and suddenly approaching it any closer seemed like a very bad idea. He stalled, only the sound of his breath shuddering in and out of his lungs breaking the silence.

The light blinked out.

Now the sense of foreboding that had warned him to stop increased one hundred fold. Had he stumbled across insurgents? Whoever it was, they clearly didn't want him to see them. But what choice did he have other than to press on? If he headed back the way he'd come, it would bring him out close to the camp, exactly what he didn't want. So he opted for waiting a little longer, hoping whoever was ahead would move on to avoid discovery themselves.

The light winked on again, this time a little closer.

Crap! They were coming toward him! _Use your smarts, John. Think!_ With little other hope of evading them, Sheppard found the biggest protrusion of rock on the wall near to him and crouched behind it. Much as he hated to hide from trouble, he was in no fit state for a fight right now. He had to hope that whoever was coming passed him right by.

The beam of light extinguished once more, and he listened for footsteps, but none reached his ears. All he noticed was a breeze that brought the hairs on his forearms to rigid attention. It took only a split second for him to realise he hadn't felt any shift in the air until that light appeared. Which meant...

_Aw crap!_

'Didn't I tell you not to go doing anything stupid, John?' a voice whispered in his ear.

He spun, but couldn't see her. It was dark and the light was gone, but she was there somewhere, he could feel the static tingle in the air. 'All right. I get it. You found me,' he grunted as loud as he dared. 'Just show yourself and get this over with.'

'How close. Like this?' she rasped, appearing right in his face and making him flinch back before she disappeared again.

He looked around, spotting the lamp light some distance away now. 'Or would you prefer me at this distance?' she called to him, her features highlighted in the scant glow. 'Perhaps this makes you feel safer...it really shouldn't.'

And then she was on him again. Before he could react she caught hold of the front of his shirt and flung him out of the niche he'd found, sending him sliding across the craggy cave floor. He was so stunned that it was a few seconds longer before the pain registered, and by then, she was right there with him, stamping down on his chest to pin him and punching him so he was too dizzy to fight back.

'I have been nothing but courteous this morning, and you've thrown my kindness back in my face,' she growled, pressing down harder and leaving him struggling for breath. 'This is disappointing, John. Very disappointing.'

He really didn't care about her disappointment, but he did care about the pain. 'Sorry to let you down!' he wheezed, hoping that was enough to placate her for now. Surprisingly it worked, and she lifted her weight a little, laughing.

'Somehow, I suspect you're not,' she said, eyes glinting with amusement.

Then he felt the tingle that told him they were going somewhere, and when he was next fully conscious of his surroundings they were back out at camp, her foot still wedged into his breastbone.

'That was a very foolish thing to do, John, but I'm willing to forgive you, just this once. It's been a difficult few days for you, and you're clearly not thinking straight. You have to try to understand. You. Can't. Get. Away. From. Me. I can sense your breathing...your heartbeat...your life force...no matter how far apart we are. You'll never escape me, John. NEVER!'

'But I'm gonna take every chance I get to try!' he grated out, attempting to lever her boot back off him and ease the pressure on his back.

'And I will drag you back here screaming and kicking every single time,' she snorted, leaning harder on him again.

It was difficult to get his breath, and his lungs ached in protest, but he was still determined to set her right on that point. 'You're no god. You're a freak, an anomaly...an error in someone's calculations. By rights you should be dead.'

At first, her face dropped in response, but then she smiled. 'Perhaps you're right, but the very fact I'm not shows how strong I am now. You can't win this time, John Sheppard, and no matter how many days it takes to teach you that, I'll prove it to you without any possible doubt.'

With a final firm shove, she kicked off from him, sliding him a couple of inches across the rough ground and leaving him groaning in her wake.

'Now,' he heard her call back to him, 'about that breakfast...'

He lifted his head from the dirt and watched her head over to the camp fire, where a pan of water was already coming to the boil judging by the steam billowing out of it, and several slices of bread sat waiting to be buttered. He realised then that his escape hadn't fazed her for a moment. It looked as if she'd expected it, taking the time to set their meal out ready before coming to look for him. So was it true that she could actually sense him? Was that why she hadn't panicked when he was missing on her return?

'Would you like me to toast your bread to take with your morning tea, or would you prefer it as it is?' she asked with a distinct glint in her eye as she squatted beside the fire and slotted a slice onto a makeshift toasting fork.

His stomach lurched at the thought of eating anything. He allowed his head to thud back to the ground and stared up at the treacherous blue sky, all part of her trap. She'd obviously brought him here because he hated the place so much. It was all part of his punishment. The heat, the pain in his back, the nauseating mingling of aromas coming from the campfire, and a consuming sense of futility all combined to make his companion even more loathsome than he'd thought possible. If she wanted him to eat, she was going to have to force him...again. He wouldn't willingly accept anything from this creature.

So...no point in getting up then.

oooOOOooo

O'Neill entered Carter's lab to the sight of two very intense and frustrated, not to mention exhausted, expressions. This was never a good sign, and was evidence if he needed any, that the two brilliant scientists had so far come up empty in their search for Sheppard and the missing alien freak. Around them, various laptops sat displaying news websites, some scrolling the latest breaking news. So this was what they'd resorted to in their attempts to find their missing alien. He figured it would leave him feeling grouchy, too.

Clapping his hands together and giving them a vigorous rub, he forced on a smile. 'Good morning, campers. What news?'

McKay's look was murderous, and Carter's was little better. Apparently neither of them was in the mood for his sparkling wit this morning.

'Nothing, Sir,' Carter responded, her tone betraying just how tired she was. 'We've been scanning global news reports for any unexplained phenomena, but other than the accident with the cab driver we're coming up empty.'

'That's...disappointing,' O'Neill said, deciding on a neutral approach to the news. In truth, he was probably almost as frustrated as they were by the lack of information, but losing his cool wasn't going to make things move any faster. 'Not surprising, but disappointing all the same.'

'Yes, well, I guess when you can split your body into every individual cell that makes it up, it's pretty easy to hide,' McKay huffed, biting off half a glazed donut in one go. 'She could be here for all we know,' he added, spraying crumbs.

Everyone paused, including McKay, his eyes slowly widening and darting around the room. Even Carter looked unnerved by the suggestion. But O'Neill knew she wasn't there. She had a whole huge world to explore, why would she waste a moment more of it stuck in a underground bunker?

'Okay, I think you two should focus on somethin' else,' he suggested, figuring they needed something to occupy their considerable combined intelligences more than their current paranoia. 'Daniel, Teal'c and I can take over watching out for unusual news reports...you guys should concentrate on finding a way of containing that woman when we do find her.'

'If we find her,' McKay muttered.

'_When_,' O'Neill reiterated, refusing to allow McKay's innate pessimism to rub off on him.

McKay couldn't hold his insistent gaze.

'I suppose we could try to increase the speed of the alternating fields,' Carter theorised, her formidable mind already kicking into gear.

'Well, we could,' McKay sneered, 'although I'd like to be on a flight to Malibu before we actually try that one out on her again.'

'The field held her for a while last time, so if we can alternate it faster, or in a more random way –'

'—it'll just take her a while longer to break out. She can completely disintegrate herself...working out patterns in alternating fields is probably not that much of a stretch for her!'

'That's an assumption –'

'So is thinking you can make that force shield prison cell work!'

'Children...children!' O'Neill interrupted, reasserting the calm between them. 'How about we waste a little less time on criticising each other, and expend some of that energy on figuring this thing out. That woman still has Sheppard...we think...and if we can't find a way of holding her, she's just gonna wipe the floor with anyone trying to get him back. Personally, I'd prefer to live long enough to see her caged with no hope of parole, not end up like the cab driver going through an autopsy in our surgical theatre right now.'

'No, Sir. You're right sir,' Carter nodded, looking suitably humble. 'We'll get right on it...start from scratch.'

'Whatever works...just do it fast,' he told her.

'Just for once I'd like to get called out here for something that doesn't include impending disaster,' McKay grumbled, shuffling over to his designated workstation and starting work.

'So would I, McKay,' O'Neill grunted. 'So would I.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So there you go! The last chapter for a few days. I had to do one this morning because I hate odd numbers, lol! Leaving it at Chapter 19 would have bugged me until I could post again. So I'll wish everyone reading this who celebrates it a very Merry Christmas, and I'll be back with more some time net week! :D**


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21 **

Sarayah was enjoying her breakfast far more than any meal she'd had in a long time. Sheppard had been particularly vigorous in his resistance this morning, something she always found intoxicating in the man, and as a result, the food tasted that much sweeter.

He lay panting a few feet away from her now, his skin and shirt soaked with tea, water and sweat, and his face sticky with butter and crumbs, but she had at least succeeded in getting some nourishment into him. Much as she needed to break him, she didn't want him dead. The thought of killing him had left her the moment the Al Qaeda leader had threatened to cut out his eye. If she couldn't stand the thought of one eye being removed from his person, how could she ever come to terms with killing him? She couldn't – but there was no need for him to know that just yet. For now he could believe she wanted him alive only to torment him. It made no difference to her.

Her old injury ached after the efforts of holding him still, and she rubbed the handless stump to relieve the soreness. Even after all these weeks it still troubled her more than she liked. But it was a grave injury, one that had almost cost her her life. If she faced up to the truth, the man lying before her deserved to die for his crimes against her, but despite that she couldn't bring herself to do it. This John Sheppard hadn't committed those crimes yet, so if she broke him, here, on his own planet, left him a shattered man incapable of being a military leader, then he wouldn't travel to Pegasus and she would never get hurt in that other time line...at least that was how she understood it. No need for him to die. Time travel was a completely baffling concept to her, and even though Major Carter had tried to explain the theory to her a couple of times during their tedious sessions in interrogation, the idea still made her head ache. But she did understand that if he never travelled to Guedeseo, she would not lose her hand. She was allowing her future self a life free from amputation...free from the scourge of John Sheppard.

As she crunched on the last piece of toasted bread, she watched the rise and fall of Sheppard's chest. It was rapid and shallow, reminiscent of how she regained her breath after a long run, and she supposed he could be breathless from their struggles, but she doubted it. He was fitter than that. His breathing was pure, barely contained hatred, and it gave her a little thrill to know she'd got under his skin once again. Little by little she would chip away at his hard exterior until she exposed all of his vulnerabilities, and then, at long last, he would break because no one could stop her this time.

A thin trickle of blood now broke free from the corner of his mouth. She'd opened up the gash inside his cheek while forcing him to eat, and no doubt the taste of blood had made his meal even more unpalatable, but he had to learn to do as she said, even if they had to repeat this frantic struggle whenever mealtime came around. For the time being he kept his eyes closed, rivulets of sweat running down his temples as the heat of the sun built and set the ground baking, reflecting its heat and intensifying it all around him.

Of course, she was almost certain she could force Sheppard to eat and drink in a less confrontational way, but one that would be far less fun, too. After their latest skirmish, her clothes clung to her with a mixture of both his sweat and hers, plus a lot of spilled supplies, and the feeling of those damp, cloying clothes just made her want to pounce on him and start all over again. In fact, he did still look thirsty...

Her hand shifted to another bottle, and she broke the seal with her teeth, the sound making him immediately react and look her way. Anger flared in his pale eyes, so much greener out here in the bright sun, and for a second she seriously considered seeing through her initial intentions, but she fought with the desire and set it to rest for a while. He was hurt and exhausted; he needed time to repair physically, though not mentally...

'Are you sure I can't tempt you to some more? I don't mind bringing it over.'

'Keep your damn water,' he growled, looking away again.

She chuckled, finding his constant refusal to back down from her rather endearing. The John Sheppard of Guedeseo had been far wilier than this. He'd known how to play the game, to at least keep up the pretence of acquiescing even if he spent the whole time plotting how to get away from her. This younger version, hot with ire and crippled by grief for his lost wife, was determined to fight her at every turn. Would that make him easier to break than his older counterpart? Time would tell, she supposed.

Her eyes drifted across his form, taking in the raw skin on his wrists, and the blood stain on the side of his shirt from the previous evening's bullet injury. That had been careless of her, and she vowed to be more careful in future. She couldn't let some random act take him from her, even though it would neatly end any chance of his ever going to Pegasus.

Her knife sat beside her in the dirt, and for just the briefest of moments she visualised snatching it up and plunging it into his heart, ending his hold over her. In her mind's eye she watched his eyes glaze and fix, his body falling limp, and her stomach churned. No, though his agony gave her exquisite pleasure, his death was too much to even contemplate. As much as she hated to admit it, she was in love with the man, and though her instant reaction to seeing him out at that roadside had been to throttle the life out of him if she'd had the hands to do it, she was glad that hadn't happened. Having had some time to calm down, meeting him at the SGC had reminded her of everything she'd first seen in him, and her passion had ignited once again. She didn't need John Sheppard to die, all she needed was to change the course of his future so he never travelled to Medulsa, then the agony of losing her hand would never happen.

She licked the last vestiges of melted butter from her lips, lips that still throbbed at the memory of their kiss at the SGC, then forced herself to think of the practicalities of the day ahead. First, they needed to get cleaned up. Sheppard's injuries would definitely need her attention, and now they had the benefit of daylight to assist her, she could do it far more effectively than she had last night. She stood and headed over to the kit back, rummaging around until she found the hygiene and medical supplies she'd swiped before leaving the SGC – soap, alcohol, dressings and some remarkable things called toothpaste and toothbrushes that she'd never seen before arriving on Earth. The Atrascans had used some kind of medicated liquid to swill out their mouths after every meal, something that had tasted completely rank, but after several months she had grown to tolerate, while on Guedeseo, the root of the berosoe plant was chewed twice daily to keep teeth clean. Previous to that, a swill out with fresh spring water had been all she and the other womenfolk of Medulsa had bothered with, yet it had seemingly sufficed. But this paste had a pleasing taste, and the thought of its aroma on Sheppard's breath made her stomach flip. Perhaps she would allow herself at least one kiss, just to sample how it tasted on him...

She wrapped everything up in a towel she had acquired while gathering breakfast and headed over to where her irate prisoner still lay fuming, picking up her knife en route. 'Now if I let you up, do you promise to be a good boy?' she asked.

'Screw you!' he grunted, turning his face away as if he couldn't even bare to look at her.

His reaction brought a grin to her face as she cut the first loop of rope from around his right wrist. 'As I said once before, all in good time, John. Let's not rush into things. '

Suddenly his anger melted into something very different. The pink flush of his cheeks instantly faded, and his heartbeat, already fast, went into overdrive. He feared the fact she could force intimacy with him if she chose to. It was the one thing that brought out his vulnerable side. Though he kept his face turned, she could see how deeply he swallowed, and he squirmed a little as she leaned over him to free his second wrist. She deliberately took her time with this second bond, pressing her body against his to feel the thunderous pace of his frantic heart. Desires stirred in her, but she again took control of them, pulling back to free his ankles instead of running her tongue along the exposed skin of his neck as her mind had told her to.

'Time to freshen up,' she announced, pushing up from her kneeling position in one smooth movement.

Sheppard's rise from supine to seated was far less graceful. It appeared that every inch of his body hurt as he tried to push up, and wherever he positioned his hands for leverage elicited moans and whimpers that set alight her desire to hurt him all over again. Certain that they would soon be at loggerheads over his treatment and grooming she kept her needs in check, instead thrusting out her left hand in an offer of assistance.

The look he gave it suggested he would rather spit in it than take her up on that offer, and he pressed on with his own efforts, eventually making it onto his shaky legs and swaying before her, as she picked up her bundle and tucked it under her right arm.

He looked around them. 'So, where's the wat –'

She didn't even let him finish the question, reaching out to touch his chest and setting their atoms in motion. As they travelled together she absorbed more of his memories and feelings, sensing happiness and loss in equal measures. It was exhilarating to feel so close to him. This was something she could never have hoped to experience if the Divine One hadn't judged her. So despite the fact her injury pained her greatly, their encounter on Guedeseo had also had its advantages.

She reassembled, landing effortlessly on her feet, which was more than could be said for her companion, He spilled to his hands and knees, crying out as the shock jarred his body. From his spot wallowing in the mud, he lifted his head and looked out across the river they had landed beside. 'I think that's a little more water than we need,' he pointed out, clambering up to his feet and panting through his discomfort.

'It's fresh and it's clean, so stop complaining,' she told him, setting the towel down on firmer ground further up the bank and unravelling it to reveal its contents. 'Now take off your shirt.'

He blinked back at her. 'I don't think so.'

'I need to clean your wounds and your clothes, so take it off,' she insisted.

He stood firm, folding his arms across himself even though the movement made him wince. 'You're not laying another finger on me, lady. The shirt stays put.'

Sarayah rolled her eyes in mock frustration, then instantly broke apart into millions of atoms, streaming into Sheppard's body with such force he stumbled back a few paces before regaining his balance.

'What the hell?' he gasped, looking down at himself. 'Get outta me!'

She didn't, instead taking control of his motor functions and setting him walking toward the river, making him wade in hip deep into the cool water, and then forcing his reluctant fingers to unbutton his shirt and take it off, ripping it swiftly from his body even though she knew how much it would hurt.

That done, she separated out from him, leaving him trembling with pain and hardly able to breathe let alone tell her what he thought of her.

She waded to shore to give him time to compose himself while she took his shirt away and retrieved the soap and a wash cloth. When she returned to him, his breathing had steadied a little, but his mood had not improved. 'You didn't have to be quite so rough.'

'No, I didn't,' she agreed, soaking the washcloth in the cold water and forming a thick lather with the soap. 'But you still need to learn to do as I ask, so I thought you might benefit from the lesson.'

'Thanks, but I've never been quick study,' he grumbled, flexing his shoulder blades and grimacing at the pain it caused him.

'Turn and I will clean those injuries.'

He hesitated, but just a look from her this time was enough for him to decide to obey. In the daylight she could clearly see the effects of the lashes he'd endured. Only two of them had actually split the skin, but the other welts were badly bruised, plenty enough reason for him to be so tentative with his movements. She dabbed each one of them clean, cleansing away the blood their scuffles had set free and leaving the extent of the injuries plain for her to see. Ten lashes in total, just as she'd given him on Medulsa when he'd taken Balfor's lashes on his behalf along with his own punishment. It was one of her fondest memories...one of them.

As she gave his back a final wipe, he hissed a complaint and she realised her mind had wandered and her touch had grown heavy. Not that she felt any remorse for inflicting pain on him, far from it. Pain would bring his situation home to him – obey or suffer the consequences.

'Hold still while I finish this,' she barked, but he flinched away all the same, turning toward her now.

'You've done enough already, don't you think?'

It wasn't a question, more an accusation. 'I think,' she said, tilting her head as she looked up at him. 'That's for me to decide.'

He didn't back down from the staring match, something that pleased her no end as it was rare to have the opportunity to stare so intently into his eyes. Eventually, satisfied he understood even if he didn't agree with her sentiment, she slipped off her own clothing and began to wash, embarrassing the young man beside her with her lack of modesty, and forcing him to turn his back. She took the opportunity to admire his physique while she bathed, his lean torso just as she remembered it, even down to the lash marks. She wondered if it was possible to stay lost out here in the mountains of Afghanistan for the rest of their lives, however long that would be. Sheppard had suggested it wasn't, but the area was vast and riddled with caves like the one he'd hidden in, she'd sensed that when scouting the area in her disassembled form while he was unconscious the previous night. And it was that ability that made her sure she could evade capture and perhaps keep Sheppard there along with her. If anyone got even close to them, they could simply disappear. She could keep the man to herself out here for years.

Once she'd washed herself, she caught hold of her clothes, still floating nearby, and soaped up the grubbiest patches, rinsing them out and repeating until she felt they were as fresh as she could get them. There were a few clothes in the kit bag she'd brought with them, but since they had the opportunity to wash their current attire, it seemed pointless to use them already. All the time she worked she kept checking on Sheppard as he stood by in sullen silence, the muscles in his back bunched. There was some strong heat in the sun now, even though it was still early from its position in the sky; it would be prudent to get his back covered quickly if he didn't want to add burns to his cuts and lacerations.

That thought brought to mind their time in the abandoned village on Guedeseo. She'd lost control that final night before he'd escaped her, something she still wasn't proud of, since she could so easily have killed him. But the thrill of his screams echoing in her memory made the thought all the more tolerable. He was such a strong man, strong and stubborn. He could take punishment like no other man she'd known. She'd burned his body, over and over, with a smoking hot poker, and he hadn't given an inch. Only breaking his arm had weakened his resolve for even a moment, but he'd still refused to beg her to stop, the one thing she'd so desperately wanted to hear.

She reached out to touch his shoulder and let him know she was done. He started, shuddering at the contact and throwing a look her way that was a mixture of horror and repulsion. Could he perhaps see her thoughts as clearly as she could see his?

'Why do you look at me that way?' she asked, curious to know.

'Why do you keep insisting on touching me when I've told you not to?' he spat back at her, eyes aflame once again.

His answer gave nothing away, but the expression he wore told her there was more to his aversion than just annoyance.

'Head to shore and I'll dress those wounds,' she ordered him, deciding to let the matter drop for now.

He stood firm. 'They're fine,' he growled. 'I don't need any more help from you.'

_Still so determined to rebuff me at every turn_. His reaction sent a thrill through her, promising another fight to come. 'Why do you continue to disobey me when you know I can make you do whatever I want?' she asked, her fierce grin unstoppable when she saw the utter frustration with which he glowered back at her.

'Because you killed my wife.'

Her smile faded instantly. Perhaps that had been a mistake after all. She'd expected the loss to weaken him, but instead it appeared to have had the opposite effect, strengthening his resolve. So she had made him more determined to defy her. Well, it would only make the moment she finally broke him down all the sweeter.

'Head to the shore, _John_.' She made sure her tone dripped with intent, drilling her gaze into him so he could not be mistaken about the threat implied. To his credit, he set his jaw and held out a while, something that impressed her considering how futile it was to try to resist.

Eventually, he muttered, 'It's getting cold in here anyway,' and waded back to the bank, dragging heavy legs and boots through the clinging mud and up to where she'd left their supplies.

Sarayah took the easier route, appearing beside him in an instant. 'Sit,' she commanded, and with little more than a pout he did so.

That showed some promise.

The promise soon disappeared again when she began to tend to his wounds. First the sting of alcohol set him squirming, then he instantly pulled away at her touch when she tried to apply the first dressing to one of his lacerations. He bucked and knocked her hands away, insisting he didn't need the lint pad, but she knew he did, finally wrestling him down onto his face and digging her knee into the welts on his lower back to subdue him. Eventually, all three cuts were dressed with a little help from her abilities, and she climbed off him, Sheppard scrambling away from her and throwing her an reproving look from several feet away at the foot of a tree bole. And he was right to; she _had _enjoyed that more than was healthy.

She took his shirt down to the water and soaked it, setting it down on a rock and rubbing patches of stained fabric vigorously to release the blood from the fibres. Soon, with several scrubs, the shirt was as clean as could be hoped, then she stood and tossed the sodden garment into Sheppard's lap, ordering him to wring it out and put it on.

He flinched as it slapped into him, then did as she asked – not surprising since it would cover the torso he'd so reluctantly exposed in the first place.

Sarayah towelled herself down, raking her fingers through her long hair to get most of the tangles out. She decided she would have to acquire a comb...then she pulled herself up. When had she ever worried about combs before? Did she really care that much about how she looked in front of this beautiful young man now? Her obsession with him was making her soft; she couldn't and wouldn't cave in to the vanity of preening for him.

She looked over his way, watching him rub his hand back and forth across his hair, sending a fine spray of water in all directions, and lifting the excess weight from his gravity defying hair. With almost no effort, he looked perfect again, at least to her eyes. He leaned carefully back against the tree to glower some more, and she realised at last that he seemed to have something to say.

'What's on your mind, John?' she coaxed, half expecting a tirade of insults that would give her the excuse she needed to assault him once more.

'I want to go back,' he grunted, reacting quickly when she tossed a toothbrush and toothpaste his way, catching them before they could strike him. He looked down at them quizzically, arching an eyebrow. Apparently, he didn't consider his personal hygiene as important as she did.

'Use it and then we'll talk,' she told him, watching him roll his eyes, then push up and head back down to the river bank.

He made quick work of cleaning his teeth, spitting out red foam once he was done. The wound inside his mouth was clearly struggling to knit, not surprising after the earlier forced feeding. She headed down behind him, and as he stood up and turned, he seemed surprised to find her so close. He slammed his hand holding the brush and paste against her chest.

'Here. Now can we talk?'

'Of course,' she agreed as she shouldered past him, dipping the brush in the fresh water and covering it in paste. She could almost feel his disgust that they had to share a brush oozing out of him, and she struggled not to laugh as she turned toward him and muffled, 'Go on,' as she brushed.

'I already said what I wanted to say,' he pointed out, folding his arms across himself as she allowed her eyes to wander down his slim physique, accentuated by the way his damp clothing clung to him. Aware that her scrutiny of him made him uncomfortable, she let her eyes linger a long time before raising them to meet his again.

'And what makes you think I would take you back to the SGC?' she asked. 'Not very likely, is it?'

'Not the SGC...the warehouse.'

The sigh that broke free from her lips was purely involuntary. 'Of course. How could I have imagined this would be about anything but your wife?' she growled, beginning to fold the towel and wrap their items inside it.

'All I want is a few minutes...to cut her down and give her some dignity.'

For the first time since she'd dragged him away from that place, his voice held a note of pleading, even though he hadn't actually begged as such. This was his true weakness...his true vulnerability. Not the fact that his wife was dead, but the fact he had no power to do anything to change the way Sarayah had done it.

'Is this really about your wife's dignity, or is this about...what did Dr Heightmeyer once call it? Closure...that's it.'

There was a hint of desperation in his voice when he spoke again. 'I just want to cut her down and make her decent for when someone eventually finds her, that's all.'

She could see he was struggling to stay civil. It would only take a little push to bring his temper to the boil again. Not that she believed in "little" pushes.

'You want to go to her to say your goodbyes...to find some peace of mind because you're responsible for her death. I won't be taking you to her, John, so you might as well put the idea out of your head right now.'

Sheppard's face paled, his fists balling at his sides. 'I didn't kill her, you did.'

Sarayah simply shrugged, flicking her long dark locks back over her shoulder. 'I may have killed her, but you're the reason she's dead. I killed her because no matter what I have done to you, you have refused to atone for the crimes you committed against me.'

'For the crimes I –?' he sputtered, barely able to find the words to reply. 'And what about all the things you've done? When do _you _plan to atone?'

Of all the things he could have said, that was the one thing that truly enraged her. Until he had come into her life, she had been an important member of her village, doing her job to the best of her ability. _He_ had turned her world upside down. _He _was the reason she had been forced to take so many lives in her attempts to show him the error of his ways. He had to accept responsibility for that flaw.

'I have nothing to atone for,' she hissed, closing in on him. 'I'm the one_ you _wronged.'

'I seriously doubt that.'

'Then you'll just have to take my word for it.'

'Your word is worth nothing!' he spat, contempt seething out of him and he faced her down.

That look was more than she could bear. She grabbed hold of his throat, squeezing as he tried to free himself, unable to grasp her ever dissolving and reintegrating mass. 'On Medulsa, my word was law for every man on that planet until you came to my world and decided to change everything,' she said, her tone flat through enforced control. Short of oxygen, Sheppard's knees buckled and he dropped down onto them in front of her. 'What gave you that right? Tell me that, John. What gave you that right?'

Realising he was close to losing consciousness, she released her hold on him. He fell forward onto his hands, gasping in huge lungfuls of air to compensate for the deprivation. 'You tortured...those men for fun...not for your job,' he coughed, peering up at her from beneath lowered brows. 'And you drugged them to satisfy your needs without anyone needing to know. Not to mention you killed your own kid before it even had chance to open its eyes. Someone had to save those people from you. _That's_ why I did what I did!'

The words impacted like a physical blow, and not just with her. Even Sheppard looked shocked by what he'd just said, letting his words sink in and digesting their true meaning

'How do you know about my child?' she demanded, fear and suspicion rising in equal measures. 'I haven't told you that...not yet.'

He shook his head, looking as if he was wresting with a number of unpleasant images now locked in his mind. 'I...I don't know.'

There was only one answer she quickly realised. 'You are connected to your future self somehow. Do you see everything he knows? Does he think of me? Do I haunt his dreams?'

'I don't know!' he screamed. 'I already told you that!'

He was backing away, as if he was now so disgusted that even breathing in her vicinity might contaminate him. 'Well, now you know the full extent of what I'm capable of, you know I haven't even begun with you yet. And this time I am stronger than ever. You have no hope of standing against me.'

Pulling up straight, Sheppard set his jaw, and despite his sudden pallor, he fired a challenge right back at her. 'What I know is that, beyond a doubt, you are the worst kind of scum it has ever been my misfortune to meet. And some day, some time, you're gonna slip up. Then you'll find out what it is to lose, you can count on that.'

She punched him, but he recovered quickly, swinging a right hook himself she was only just quick enough to avoid. Not that his failure stopped him; he swung a couple more shots, and she realised he'd lost control again, just as he had when they'd first returned to this land. His grief was stripping him of his normal composure, leaving only raw emotion driving his desire for revenge. Much as it fascinated her to see him this way, she couldn't allow it to go unchecked.

After a few more swipes she evaporated into the air and reassembled behind him, wrapping her arms around him and dragging him to the ground. 'Shhhh, John. Come now. It was over for you and Nancy anyway, so there's really no loss,' she whispered against his hair.

His reply was purely primal, a grating scream that awakened feelings so deep within her they shocked even her. She lost herself in him, allowing the contact to let her see into his mind, experiencing his grief like her own heart was breaking...right up until the point when he threw his head back and split her lip, breaking free of her grasp and trying to run.

Her anger suddenly erupting, she broke apart and pursued him, her sheer energy lifting him high off the ground and flinging him out into the depths of the river. He landed with a gut-winding slap on the previously calm surface, the force of it leaving him struggling to stay afloat.

She moved rapidly to join him, staying focused on him even though the whole universe spoke to her as she made her short flight. When she became corporeal again in the water she grabbed his hair, yanking him up while he gagged and spluttered, arms flailing and trying to break her painful hold.

'Much as I appreciate this uncharacteristic show of passion, I think it's time to cool that ardour,' she grinned, pushing him down and holding him there. He struggled and thrashed, but he had no hope of surfacing until she was good and ready to let him up. The sense of control was exhilarating; he was completely at her mercy. It was her choice whether he lived or died. If he died, here, now, he would never travel to Pegasus and she would remain in her role as chief prison warden, with her whipping arm intact. All she had to do was hold him down a few seconds longer. ..

When the fight left him she panicked, pulling him up but getting no reaction from his limp body. She returned them both to the river bank in an instant, dropping him to the ground and testing for a pulse and breath. She couldn't find any trace of either.

She'd learned enough of these Earth people's medicine to know she had to do something the medical staff at the SGC had called CPR. She'd watched them perform it on an officer injured after a mission, though a mission to where no one had actually said. His heart had stopped moments after arriving in the infirmary while Dr Fraiser had been checking her wounded arm, and she had pumped air into his mouth and pounded on his chest until machines had arrived to do the work for her. Though she had no idea if that would be enough without medical intervention, she decided she had to try. The alternative was to take him to Fraiser, but she wasn't ready to seek her help just yet. He needed air in his lungs and force to keep his heart beating. She could do that, couldnt she?

So she repeated what she'd seen in the only way she could, laying Sheppard out, tilting his head back a little and breathing into his mouth, then pushing on his chest with her left hand, hoping it would work. Why did he have this effect on her? Always pushing her too far. Did he want to die? Nausea welled as he failed to respond, and so she repeated the process, once, then when he remained unresponsive she allowed her hand to penetrate his chest cavity, grasping his heart and pumping it for him. Finally he came back to her, coughing out a mouthful of water down her front as she manipulated his heart. She snatched her hand back and he gasped in air for himself, rolling onto his side and spewing out more water until he'd emptied out everything that he'd inhaled, then he flopped back in the mud, making himself groan as his damaged back hit the ground.

Sarayah sat back on her heels and breathed a sigh of relief, then looked down at her clothes in disgust and stripped herself off, returning to the water's edge to wash and scrub them clean once again. Sheppard made no attempt to move the whole time she did it, as if he was completely spent. When she peered back over her shoulder she saw he had draped his arm across his face and his chest hitched as if he might actually be crying. So what were his tears for? Frustration at his situation, anger at not being able to hurt her, or more grief for his tiresome late wife? Perhaps it was a mixture of all three.

Slipping into her top, she strode back over to him, snatching up the rest of their things before nudging him in the side with her boot. 'Time to get up. We need to move camp to avoid detection.'

'Go to hell!' he groaned, refusing to budge.

For some reason those words resonated with her more this time than on any of the previous occasions he'd said them. They meant something to her and as she thought about where she'd heard him say them before during their previous encounters, and why they seemed so important now. Her body began to tingle, as if she were about to break apart. Her stomach flipped in panic, and she concentrated hard on staying whole and staying put. The tingle subsided and she felt substantial again, her calm returning along with her solidity.

Sheppard still lay at her feet, unaware of the affect he'd had on her. And that was just the way she intended to keep it.

'You forget, I don't need your agreement to take you anywhere,' she reminded him, stamping a foot on his chest and concentrating. In a split second they were united again, speeding through the universe at her behest...while Sarayah did her utmost to hide that moment of self-doubt from her troublesome charge.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And she's back with a Whump! She gets madder by the day, that one! I hope the update was worth waiting for and that those of you who celebrated it had a great Christmas. :)**


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

'Okay, I think I may have an idea,' McKay announced, sitting back from his laptop screen and pinching the bridge of his nose to help bring the room into clearer focus. He'd been staring at his screen for far longer than any optician would recommend, but it seemed his efforts had finally paid off.

Carter looked up from the opposite side of the workstation, her huge eyes glistening with hope. 'What do you have?'

'Well, I figured we needed to look at the problem from a different angle,' he gushed, his self-satisfaction forcing his words out more rapidly than normal. 'You've been trying to figure out a way to block her using her ability to dematerialise...I, on the other hand, chose a different route. I figured that since we can't stop her from dematerialising, we should use that very ability against her.'

In the fluorescent lighting of the laboratory, McKay saw Sam's cheeks take on a slightly pinker tinge. She was either embarrassed at her oversight or annoyed, not that he cared which because he was on a roll.

'McKay...get to the point,' she grunted.

'Okay.' He jumped down off his stool and spun his laptop to face her, darting around the workstation to her side. 'I started thinking about the way she breaks apart, which is effectively what happens to components as they pass through the event horizon of a Stargate. So, while she's in that state, that's our best time for trapping her.'

Carter sucked in her cheeks, nodding slowly. 'Go on.'

'Then I got to thinking about what happened to Teal'c when he travelled through the 'gate and failed to rematerialise due to a power surge. The buffers stored him. So, what we need to do is create something that acts in the same way as the buffers, somehow pulling in and storing her atoms to be reintegrated at a later date, preferably one of our choosing and with suitable safety protocols in place That way we can study her at our leisure and figure out exactly what's going on with her.'

Carter had continued to nod all through his explanation, following his thought process. 'Okay...so...all we have to do is build some device that's powerful enough to draw her molecules in, then get it close enough to her for it to be effective when she decides to dematerialise?'

McKay's felt his shoulders drop. 'Well, I never said it was gonna be easy, but we're gonna have to get close to her to trap her whatever plan we come up with. Personally, I think we have a better chance of holding her if we utilise her advantage against her instead of trying to find a way to contain something we've had no real chance to assess.'

He saw the reluctant acceptance creep into her expression as she read through his calculations. 'You may have a point, although there's still a certain amount of speculation involved in knowing how much power is required to store her cells in the buffer.'

'Well, there's that, but if we can come up with something similar in power to the Stargate's own buffers, but in a mobile form, that should hopefully do it.'

'Well, it's certainly a starting point,' Carter agreed. 'All we have to do now is get it into production...in a unit small enough to be hidden in plain sight if we approach her.'

'Ah...now...I was thinking about that,' he said, holding his right index finger up erect in front of her face and ignoring the fact she looked like she might just snap it off. 'The chances are if she sees any one of us approaching...you know...someone she recognises, she might just disappear before we have chance to get close enough. We're gonna need someone else to deliver it.'

'Nicely delegated,' Sam snorted, rolling her tongue around in her cheek. 'You weren't too close to the front of the line the day they were handing out backbone, were you?'

'Nope,' he smirked, not at all disheartened by the fact that was the second time this week someone had said that to him and happily tapping away at his computer to tweak the designs for his master plan. 'I was too busy getting second helpings in the brains department. And lucky for you guys I was.'

Sam shook her head, but he noticed even she couldn't resist a smile at that one. 'Still, all this is just theory until we actually find her.'

'We might be able to help you out with that ,' Daniel announced, entering the lab just as Sam said those words. Teal'c followed him, his expression solemn as ever despite the apparent breakthrough. 'We've just seen a news story that might tell us where she is...or at least where she recently was.'

'What've you got?' Sam asked, keen to hear the news.

'Several members of an Al Qaeda unit have been found dead in the Helmand province of Afghanistan.'

McKay looked Carter's way. She exchanged a glance with him, then voiced the questions they'd thought simultaneously. 'Well, that's a good thing, but how do we know this has anything to do with Sarayah?'

Daniel's mouth twitched up into a grim smile. 'Because one of them had had his spine pulled out at the base of his skull...but no one can tell how.'

Rodney's stomach did a queasy lurch. What was wrong with that woman? Only a few hours earlier an autopsy on the cab driver's charred remains had found a chunk of his brain missing with no visible exterior sign of its removal, and now this. The woman was a monster...one he wished he'd never met. This was going to give him nightmares for years to come.

'Okay, if you can give me the exact location of the incident, I'll start a search through all information on the area...any other anomalous incidents or occurrences...try to figure out the most likely place she could be holed up,' Sam replied, pulling up another stool and setting it beside hers. Daniel sat down and told her everything he could remember from the report, referring to his ever present notebook, which he had jotted the details down in.

'Er...what about the buffer?' McKay asked, folding his arms across his chest in indignation.

'You keep working on it,' Sam said without lifting her eyes from her screen.

'Oh, yes...of course. Leave it to me to save the day again,' he huffed, catching hold of his laptop and returning to his side of the workstation.

'It'll give you a chance to put that double helping of brains to good use,' he heard her respond without missing a beat.

For once he decided to keep his comments to himself.

oooOOOooo

The sun was now at its height as Sheppard watched Sarayah prepare them another meal. His clothes had long since dried out and his anger that she hadn't allowed him to stay in the soothing embrace of death was brooding, desperate for release. Despite all that, and though it pained him to admit it, for the first time since his kidnapping he had to acknowledge his hunger. Resisting had proved utterly futile on the previous occasions, so now he figured he might as well eat what was on offer and build his strength. After his earlier dunking he felt...feeble. He hated feeling feeble.

Sarayah stripped a hare of its fur with great skill considering her handicap, slitting open its stomach and gutting it with equal proficiency. He hated the fact he was dependent on her for everything, that she didn't even let him prepare his own food, but since he was trussed up again, with his wrist and ankle bindings now tied together so he couldn't even stand, he wouldn't have had a great deal of success.

After quartering the carcass, she skewered it and set it cooking over a small fire she'd built, turning to look at him at last. 'Still sulking, John? You should be thanking me. I saved your life again, after all.'

'After drowning me first. Oddly, I'm not feeling all that grateful.'

She arched an eyebrow. 'Surely you're not telling me you would prefer to be dead?'

'Oh, I don't know. You murdered my wife, had the skin flayed off my back, it's too damned hot to even think and the company stinks. Just gimme a minute to think about that,' he drawled, fixing her with a fierce glare.

Sarayah simply met his gaze, completely unfazed. 'What kind of an animal is this anyway?' she asked, referring to the meal now cooking a few feet behind her and ignoring his insults.

'What am I, a walking reference manual?' he grunted, refusing to answer.

Without missing a beat, she crossed to him and clamped her palm to his forehead, his whole world exploding in dizziness and pain as she forced her way into his thoughts. 'A hare? And it's like a larger form of rabbit. Fascinating,' she commented as she released him and he rocked forward, clutching his head.

'A little more notice next time,' he croaked.

'If you answered my questions willingly no notice would be required,' she responded.

He had to admit she made a good point, but he could never imagine a time when he would freely give her information about his world, no matter how trivial it seemed. She had the power to turn every situation, every scrap of information to her advantage. He didn't want to help her by casually tossing her explanations of how things on Earth worked, no matter how banal those subjects were.

'Have you ever eaten hare before?' she asked him, a mean glint in her eye.

Clearly, she sensed his reluctance to engage with her, but he wasn't about to have her vacuum the information out for herself again so soon. This one he was fairly certain he could field without giving away any global security secrets. It was only a question about him.

'Yeah, I've eaten it before,' he told her.

'Does it taste good?'

'Good enough.' It wasn't one of his favourite meals, but he figured that wasn't worth saying.

She stared at him a long while after that answer, then conceded a shrug. 'Well, whether it does or not, it will do for now.' She headed over to the fire, where she unwrapped other supplies saved from their breakfast. 'We still have some bread and water, and a little butter...although I imagine it's turned sour in this heat.' She sniffed at the small pat, drawing back at the smell. 'Would you like some on your bread?'

He grimaced, realising things weren't that desperate yet. 'Uh...no. Appealing as you make it sound, I think I'll pass.'

'That's probably for the best,' she nodded, setting to the task of slicing up their loaf.

Away to their left, quite some distance from their camp, Sheppard spotted a herd of mountain sheep ambling their way across the craggy landscape, stopping to graze at what few patches of scrubby plantation they could find. It was hard to believe animals could survive so well up in these mountains, but survive they did, making the best of whatever food sources they found. It wasn't a life he envied. These mountains were the retreat of violent and cold-blooded killers who knew they could elude capture and plot attacks with little chance of discovery. Even after two years of hunting by allied forces, their leaders still evaded capture, and they didn't have the advantage Sarayah had. This place was like slipping through into another world...nothing new for her, apparently, but something totally alien to him. The thought took him back to everything he'd read in the dossier of classified information about the Stargate project, of the potential alien threat to the planet, and also to thoughts of the lost city Daniel had been so desperate to find. Maybe he could try to get information while he waited for help to arrive, anything to make this all seem somehow worthwhile.

'I guess Medulsa's pretty much like this place, then?' he asked, clearly surprising her with his attempt at conversation.

She arched an eyebrow, as if trying to work out what he was up to, then, apparently sensing no malicious intent, answered him. 'Something like this place. The area surrounding my village was less arid than this, but we had our share of deserts.'

'And this Atlantis...this city I go to in the future, it's in the water, right?'

She narrowed her eyes now, scrutinising him again. 'Why do you ask?' The question seemed logical enough, but her tone was laden with suspicion.

'Because I think I've seen when connected to you...a city under an ocean.'

'You're lying!' she spat, closing in on him. 'I've already told you Atlantis sits on the water. Why are you saying these things?'

Puzzled, he tried to make sense of things. The name Atlantis suggested an underwater city like the legends from ancient mythology...so maybe it had been underwater, but had then risen at some point during the expedition he was to be part of and Sarayah just didn't know about it.

'I'm not lying...I'm telling you what I saw. I was wondering if it was under the ocean on Medulsa and that's how we met,' he covered as flawlessly as he could.

'Atlantis isn't on Medulsa...if it had been, our menfolk would never have needed to...' Her voice petered away and she fell silent, her eyes flashing angrily at his. 'Enough questions. You're not here to learn about your future.'

'So why am I here?' he demanded, his annoyance flaring again. 'What exactly is this great plan for retribution you have brewing in that sordid little mind of yours? You've already done the worst possible thing you could do to me by killing my wife. So what do we do now? Mountain hop until you get sick of basking in my misery?'

Everything seemed to fall utterly silent at that moment. Sarayah glared down at him, as if incensed that he dared to question the validity of her plans. Then, she very slowly walked over to him and squatted at his side. 'You really think I've done the worst possible thing I can to you? What a sadly limited imagination you have, John. There are so many things I could do to you that would leave you screaming for mercy. You can't even begin to conceive the world of torment I can introduce you to. Don't push me, or I might be tempted to give you an example.'

She slipped the knife from her belt and held it up in front of his face, the sunlight glinting off its razor sharp blade. He did what he could to keep the fear he felt from his expression, but the sudden dryness of his throat forced a deep, difficult swallow he knew she couldn't have missed. In a swift movement, she swept the blade down and severed the rope binding his wrist bonds to those around his ankles. Relief washed over him as she backed away, heading back over to the fire to check their meal. Apparently, she meant him to feed himself this time, and for now he figured he might as well comply. It wasn't as if she was going to let him starve to death even if he wanted to.

Sarayah shoved her knife back into her belt and plucked the skewered meat from the flames to examined it, replacing it after a short examination to let it cook a little longer. Apparently, his complaining stomach would have to wait because she hadn't given the meat enough time to cook yet.

Wait...

The word echoed inside his head, feeling familiar and in some way connected to their situation. He tried to figure the feeling out. Then he remembered when he'd first felt it. It had been when Sarayah had first whisked him away from the warehouse, and was loitering in the background every time she demolecularised along with him.

And as that realisation struck him, he suddenly understood what it meant. That was what all this was about – waiting. The threats were just a means to keep him compliant. She didn't want him dead...she wouldn't have saved him twice in the past twenty four hours if she did...she just wanted to keep him away from the Stargate project. That was her big plan. She meant to stop him going through the Stargate.

The awareness brought a smirk to his face. He had absolutely no intention of going through with the supposed future that would bring him in contact with this crazy bitch. But hey, if she really intended to sit it out in the mountains of Afghanistan until the date of his great expedition to another galaxy passed, she could try. Chances were the SGC folks would track her down and catch her long before that. Either that or the insurgents would sneak up on them and kill them both while they slept, and right now he really didn't care if they did.

Catching the new smug look on his face she called over,' 'Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?'

'No reason,' he replied enigmatically, his smile slipping some as she strode back over to him and delivered a backhand that knocked him dizzy.

'Tell me what you were thinking or I'll rip your thoughts out of your head for myself,' she growled, and he knew she meant it.

'I figured out what you're up to, 's all,' he grumbled, wiping away the trickle of blood now seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

'Oh really?' Now it was her turn to smile. Apparently she didn't believe he was smart enough to have done that. 'And what exactly have you "figured out", John?'

'You want to prevent me going through the Stargate and travelling to your world. You want to just carry on with your sadistic backwoods life without any interference from yours truly.'

She looked appropriately surprised by his insight into her motives, planting her hand and her stump on her hips as she loomed over him. 'I suppose you think you're smart working that out all alone?' she asked.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. 'Hell, yeah. And if I could do half of what you can do, I wouldn't be spending all my time sitting up a mountain and scavenging for food.'

Sarayah swatted at a fly that had chosen that moment to annoy her, to its cost. It exploded at her contact, no doubt infiltrated at the cellular level by her passing hand. 'I suppose you would have done things differently?' she asked with more than a hint of accusation.

'I'm just saying that if I had the ability to travel through time and space to hunt me down and stop me getting to your homeworld, I might try something more...imaginative,' Throwing her own insult to him back at her.

'Oh...trust me, John. When it comes to dealing with you, my imagination knows no bounds –'

He refused to let her threats slow his momentum. 'Really? 'Cos right now it looks to me as if you're hiding out here...like some kind of coward.'

Her eyebrow twitched up the faintest degree. 'Careful, John,' she warned, her voice barely more than a primal growl.

But Sheppard was feeling heady with his new-found knowledge. He had no intention of sitting it out in these mountains with her. He was happy to end this any way he could, even if it meant his own death.

'Hey, I'm just telling it like I see it. Here you are with the power to move...I dunno...mountains maybe, and you choose to spend your time skulking from one hidey-hole to another. Not exactly awe-inspiring, is it?'

'You know what, John. I think you're right. We don't have to stay here in this impossible heat. Let's find somewhere cooler.'

She grabbed hold of a fistful of his hair, and for a split second it felt like someone was cleaving his brain with an axe as she raided his head for another destination. Then they were away, disintegrating into the atmosphere and almost instantaneously arriving at their new location, a cold and snowy plain in...

'Greenland!' Sheppard breathed, sensing it rather than knowing from the visual cues surrounding him. He'd been to the coastal regions before where the climate was more temperate, he'd even sensed when they'd passed over Nuuk, the last place he'd stayed on vacation, but he'd never ventured out into the frozen wilderness areas as this appeared to be. The chill air instantly bit at his inappropriately clothed body and his bound feet began to sink into the deep, unblemished snow, the sensation and the sudden journey there leaving him horribly unbalanced and kitten-weak. He fell to his knees, a soft if damp landing, and stayed there shivering as the snow beneath him melted and soaked through his clothes.

'Is this cool enough for you, John?' his captor asked, rubbing at the goose flesh on her arms. 'I have to confess this isn't my favourite kind of environment, but if it stops you from complaining for a while I'm willing to tolerate it.'

'Stuffing me into an icebox would have had the same result,' he grumbled, his trembles getting stronger. He figured sitting there wasn't helping any, so tried to stand again.

His companion looked around as he struggled against sinking, shifting snow to get back to his feet, the cold spreading deep to his bones in only seconds. 'I suppose snow has a certain charm, but we're going to need better supplies. Wait here.'

She began to break apart, but he yelled out before she could completely vanish, stopping her progress and causing her to manifest before him again. She gave him a quizzical look, waiting to hear what he had to say.

'We're in the middle of nowhere, with nothing else around but snow...at least cut these damned restraints off so I can get my balance.'

She blinked back at him, then pulled her knife out and bent down, digging in the snow until she revealed the ties around his boots. 'A compromise,' she announced, cutting the bonds around them. 'Now please don't disappoint me, John. I won't be long; just make sure you're still standing here when I get back...or you might well find out just how imaginative I can be in terms of your punishment.'

She evaporated into the air right before him, leaving that threat to keep him company. He gazed around at his breathtaking surroundings – literally breathtaking as he watched the clouds of air condensing to steam as they left his constricting lungs. It was way too cold to be out here in nothing but his flimsy civvies. If Sarayah didn't get back soon, he would end up dead just as he'd planned, even if it was from hypothermia rather than a sound pummelling or some explosive invasion of his body like that pesky Afghan fly.

He briefly wondered just how far he could get before Sarayah returned, then laughed at the insanity of even contemplating an escape attempt. He was almost knee deep in snow with his hands still bound and nothing to see in any direction but stretches of pristine whiteness. There was nowhere to hide...not a single place. He was stranded and more reliant on Sarayah than ever. Maybe Afghanistan hadn't been so bad after all...

When he heard a distant gruff call, he was certain he preferred the heat. Turning slowly, he scanned the horizon as far as he could see, the sun shining off the brilliant white snow hurting his eyes and restricting the distance he could view. But then he saw it, the thing he'd seriously hoped he hadn't just heard.

It was a huge, solitary beast, so probably a male, well camouflaged in the surrounding drifts, and it was sniffing the air, picking up his scent on the steady breeze. Sheppard had always thought polar bears were beautiful animals, but not when they were only a few hundred yards away and evidently hungry.

'Aw crap!' he breathed as the animal focused on him and took a few cautious steps in his direction _Just stay there, buddy. Just stay right there!_

The bear stopped and sniffed again, letting out another bellow. Sheppard took a couple of shaky steps backwards, trying not to startle the animal into action, but the snow was deep and the going difficult. Before he could steady himself, his right foot refused to lift out of the snow and he toppled backward , sinking into the thick drifts.

The sound of the bear's call was somewhat muffled by the snow in his ears, but not so much that he couldn't tell the damned thing was getting closer. He rolled and did his best to scramble to his feet, all the time aware that the bear was pounding its way across the snow behind him, gaining ground fast. Already slowed by the cold, Sheppard could barely move in the harsh conditions, but the bear, perfectly adapted for the terrain, had no such difficulties. Its breaths, sounding like an approaching steam train, got ever closer with each passing second, and he had nowhere to hide, not a shelter, not a mountain, not even a single damned tree to scuttle up. He was as good as dinner.

The bear hit him from behind with the force of a truck, and he landed face down, his mouth and nose filling with snow and preventing him from breathing. Hot breath on his arm warned him the thing was about to bite, and he rolled snapping his limb away before its jaws could clamp fully shut and suffering only surface scratches from its formidable canines.

So now it was drooling down his shirtfront, about to rip his head off. If Sheppard had been the praying type, he figured now would definitely be the time to fire one off to the big guy, but nothing sprang to mind, nothing other than a fleeting thought of Nancy...

A sharp crack rang out, and hot fluid splashed in Sheppard's eyes, forcing him to shut them. A metallic taint sat warm on his tongue, and then the bear was on top of him, not growling, not salivating, just crushing the air out of him. Oh, yeah, this was so much better than a mauling. After a couple of moments of desperate pushing and straining, the bear simply disappeared and reappeared a few feet away, Sarayah standing beside it.

'I leave you alone for a few moments and look at the trouble you get yourself into,' she quipped, trudging back his way. She dropped a pack down beside him and began rummaging inside, pulling out a towel and wiping the blood and sticky brain matter from his face while he did his best not to hurl at the thought he had just inadvertently swallowed bear brains.

She scooped up some snow and wrapped it in the towel, using the rough, damp surface to clean the worst of the gore away. 'You know, I think I'm going to like this place. We could have all kinds of fun out here.'

'Yeah, it's a laugh a minute,' he stammered, the cold and shock finally setting in and leaving him trembling.

'Good, then maybe we'll stay here a while.'

He lifted his head and glared at her, realising for the first time that she was now wearing Nancy's ski clothes. She'd been back to his house again, taken more of their things, sullied his wife's memory yet again...and right now he didn't even have the energy to write a formal letter of complaint, let alone do battle with her about it.

He allowed his head to fall back, closing his eyes and regaining his breath as his aches and pains began to register through the shock. Maybe hypothermia was a good way to go. Maybe she would just let him lay there getting covered in snow and slip away in that icy wasteland.

A warm, gloved hand came to rest on his chest, patting it forcefully. 'Lucky I got back when I did. 'Seems I'm always saving your life these days. Now, how about we find ourselves some shelter and get you out of those wet things before you die of cold?'

Sheppard screwed his eyes tighter shut and tried to fight off the images now racing through his head at her contact, images he really didn't need to get stuck with when his life was already such a nightmare. She was way too fond of helping him out of his clothes...which explained how she happened to be wearing his shirt when they'd first found her. He really couldn't do this anymore. Why couldn't that bear have run just a little bit faster?

Maybe a quick prayer for a freak lightning bolt would do the trick...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Eep, that was close! But maybe he'd have been better off if the bear had got to him first. And as usual, thanks for all those reviews. It's nice to hear what you readers think. :)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23 **

Carter ran through the simulation one more time, the results proving positive once again. She and McKay had been working on the buffer-type storage device for hours now, and they finally had a design that was small enough to get near to Sarayah without her seeing it, but powerful enough to store her. The equations were simple with hindsight, but fatigue and arguments had slowed their progress, something she found eternally frustrating.

McKay had actually fallen asleep with his head on the workstation while congratulating himself on figuring out how to make the device work. The truth was, they'd applied a combination of ideas they'd both drawn up, but she really didn't have the energy to argue any longer. He could take the glory if it made him work harder. And he had put in the early work alone. Five minutes ago he'd woken and grumbled something about going in search of more coffee as he'd yawned and shuffled out the door. She hadn't complained. His snoring had been a distraction she didn't need, and the coffee might just give her the couple more hours she needed to make that breakthrough discovery.

She had pulled together a few other reports of odd or criminal activities in Khandahar province, but knew hunting Sarayah and Sheppard down out there would be worse than the needle in a haystack scenario. She could disappear at will, so wherever they eventually traced her to she could transport herself away from there in an instant.

Carter watched the simulated experimental 'gate rotating on her screen, appearing and disappearing in a graceful and rhythmic dance that was so hypnotic it almost put her to sleep. She shook it off, looking instead at her notepad where she'd jotted down a few ideas. Since McKay had come up with the buffer solution, her mind had instantly moved to the next stage of the problem – returning Sarayah to her normal state. She'd wondered if sending Sarayah through their own 'gate would be enough to re-establish the correct bonds between her cells, though how they would actually get her through it was tricky and the chances were the 'gate would just put her back together exactly as she'd entered. Perhaps a few adjustments to the 'gate might change that, but she hadn't had time to figure that out yet. Then she'd noted down the theory that a fault with the experimental 'gate they believed she'd travelled through might have actually altered her form at the genetic level in a permanent way...that was altogether more problematic and would require a combination of approaches to solve, something else she hadn't quite figured out the logistics of just yet, though when she'd mentioned it to Janet over breakfast she'd said she knew someone she thought could help. Then there was another alternative, one she really hoped she was wrong about...the possibility that this supposed experimental 'gate had somehow integrated with Sarayah herself, and that was how she was able to move so quickly and without detection. Although it put the fascinating technology within their reach, it also made Sarayah a more formidable adversary than ever.

As she pondered the problem, she heard someone enter the lab. It was Daniel, and he gave her a sheepish smile as he sauntered over to her. 'Hey, still working I see. When did you last take a break?'

Sam rubbed her dry eyes and gave him a feeble smile in return. 'Hey, Daniel. McKay's just getting us another pot of coffee. I'll take a break then. So, I hear you spoke with Nancy this morning.'

'Yeah...not that it was much use. Sarayah didn't give anything away to her. She's very practised at covering her tracks.'

Sam gave him a quizzical look. 'You sound like you know that for a fact.'

His brow puckering into a frown, Daniel looked troubled by the thoughts clearly running through his mind. 'I do. In those few moments when she attacked me I got a good sense of what makes Sarayah tick. She's spent her life hiding her activities...she's not gonna make many mistakes, that's for sure.'

Sam almost didn't want to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. 'Did you see how she was involved with John?'

Almost instantly, a slightly queasy hue coloured Daniel's cheeks, and he pulled out a seat to perch on as if he couldn't stand anymore. 'Oh, yeah. I think that was the point. She's done...will do...some pretty awful things to him and she wanted to let me see them as if I was there. I could actually feel the thrill hurting him sent through her...it's not an experience I ever hope to repeat...'

The recollection left him looking haunted, so Sam thought it prudent to change the subject back to her work instead. 'Well, I've continued monitoring any unusual activities and events in the area where those Taliban were murdered yesterday, and although there hasn't been much, a few minor reports of theft have been recorded in an area with a 50 mile radius of that attack. Mostly food supplies it seems, and that would be the very thing our girl needs. So that means we can probably narrow our search area down to one hundred square miles of Afghanistan. '

He raised his eyebrows. 'Oh...that's good?'

'No...not really,' she admitted, 'but it's the best I can do right now. General Hammond is considering mobilising troops already in the area to carry out reconnaissance, feedback any additional clues they can gather.'

Daniel nodded, just as Rodney returned with a full pot of percolated coffee, even the smell of it strong enough to give Sam's brain cells a wake-up call. As both Sam and McKay helped themselves to a mugful of the evil smelling brew, Daniel leaned forward and stared at the image of the experimental 'gate she'd created, watching it disappear and reappear over and over again as the simulation played out on her screen.

Sam leaned back in her seat, tired of being shut up underground in the dingy confines of her lab. She felt like offering to go out and hunt Sarayah down on foot herself for all the work she was putting them through, and for the suffering she'd caused Nancy. And from the expression on Daniel's face whenever he mentioned the Sarayah's attack, what she might be doing with Sheppard now didn't bear thinking about. This was the very definition of frustration. They were almost certain they knew what was going on, and roughly where Sarayah and Sheppard were...as long as she hadn't killed the major already...but the very abilities they'd identified made her almost impossible to pin down and catch, she was simply too fast to get near.

'Sam...this 'gate,' Daniel began cautiously, as if still forming the question as he spoke.

She frowned, waiting to hear the rest. 'Yeah...'

'It gives off an energy signature very similar to that of our 'gate, right?'

She nodded, sipping from her steaming mug before answering. 'Yeah. It was more powerful and erratic, probably because of the solar flare that must have boosted the wormhole to get Sarayah here, but it was recognisable as an establishing event horizon.'

'Sooo,' he drawled, still thinking it over, 'is it possible that Sarayah's movements generate a similar pattern?'

'Not likely,' McKay called over from his workstation. 'She's demolecularising, not forming a wormhole.'

'We think,' Sam threw in. They really weren't certain of anything, so right now she was willing to consider any option. 'Although, I have been theorising that if the device meant to store this experimental Stargate was destroyed by the force of the solar flare that sent Sarayah here it may have sought out some other place to store itself.'

'What? Is that yet another one of your snatched out of the ether crazy theories, blondie?' McKay snorted, shaking his head as he concentrated on his laptop again.

'So you think Sarayah may have somehow absorbed the 'gate into her physical make-up?' Daniel asked, his eyes wide with amazement.

'Well, without having her here to test it's impossible to know for certain, but her abilities show it's definitely affected or is still affecting her physiology.'

'Affecting it, yes, but we have no way of proving it incorporated itself into her.'

'So!' Daniel called a halt to their discourse with his raised voice and index finger. 'What do we know that we can use? I mean, the process of her cells breaking apart must give off some kind of unique energy reading, wouldn't you think?'

Sam looked over to McKay to see him raise his head, his face slack. 'He may be onto something...nothing else on this planet can do what she does.'

'Yes, but we have no way of knowing how much energy she produces or what that signature looks like to try to trace it,' Sam pointed out, fearing they'd hit yet another stumbling block.

'Yes we do,' McKay smirked, jumping out of his seat and rushing over to them. 'When you had her in the force shield cell, the room was being monitored, right?'

'Yeah, but there was so much equipment in there giving off energy I doubt we could separate out her signature.'

'Sure we can...All we have to do is pinpoint the exact moment she used her powers to step through the force shield from the video surveillance, identify all the other power sources and filter them out, then what's left is Sarayah in action.'

'Okay,' Sam nodded, 'that's possible, but we'll probably have to increase the range of NORAD's satellite systems to pick it up. I imagine shifting a few hundred miles uses less energy than an intergalactic wormhole.'

'Or maybe we could send out a few F-302s to do recon...hope she's looking for a change of scenery when they pass over.'

'Yeah...I think I just spotted the flaw with that plan,' Daniel muttered.

'Daniel's right, that way's too hit and miss. You work on isolating Sarayah's energy signature, and I'll work on increasing the scanning intensity of the satellite relay. That way, once you have the signature for us to trace we can start work immediately.'

'On it!' McKay chirped, darting back to his seat.

Sam herself began initializing contact with the satellite system, only realising Daniel was still there when he cleared his throat and said, 'Okay, well, since you're both busy I should probably just leave you to it.'

Feeling bad that she'd forgotten him in her enthusiasm to get started, she replied. 'Thanks for stopping by, Daniel. You've been a big help.'

'Oh, you know, any time you need help with those complicated theoretical astrophysics problems, don't hesitate to call.'

She grinned and returned to her work, hardly even reacting when she heard McKay mutter, 'Don't hold your breath, archaeology boy.'

At last they were making the kind of progress that could make a real difference. If Sheppard was still alive, all he had to do was hang in there, and they might soon have him on their radar.

oooOOOooo

'_Well, there it is, Sheppard. Might as well get down there and get this ball rolling.'_

_Sheppard looked down at the primitive village, with its mixture of womenfolk and children, a heavy feeling sitting in his gut. 'Yeah...I guess.'_

_Rodney seemed almost surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. 'C'mon, Sheppard. This little reunion is gonna lead us to the single greatest Stargate ever created.'_

_Sheppard rolled his eyes as McKay raved over the technological advances the experimental 'gate promised. 'Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose gonna get the crap beaten outta you.'_

_Teyla exchanged a puzzled look with Ford then frowned at John. 'I do not understand. You two have been here before?'_

'_Er, no, not exactly,' Rodney stammered. 'Not if we're looking at time in terms of the linear model. But if you consider time as billions of billions of moments all existing simultaneously and we simply travel through them, then we are both never here and always here in any given moment.'_

_Teyla's jaw dropped a fraction, no words forth coming._

'_What did he say?' Ford asked, taking off his cap and scratching his scalp._

'_He said no...in a roundabout way,' Sheppard sighed, taking another look through his binoculars. He couldn't see her down there. But then, this apparently wasn't her normal hangout; she was probably lording it up over at the prison encampment._

'_We haven't been here, but we've 'seen' what happens...well, Sheppard has seen it anyway,' McKay tried to clarify, making his meaning no clearer if Teyla and Ford's expression were anything to go by._

'_Does he come with a translation manual?' Ford asked, thumbing over at the aggravated scientist._

'_It's complicated,' Sheppard conceded. 'You two just have to do as we say...no questions. Okay?'_

'_Very well. What should we do, Major?' Teyla asked._

'_Uh, just gimme a minute, okay?'_

'_What're you waiting for, an invitation? You have to get down there or that Stargate sits and waits for someone else to come along and find it.'_

'_I know what's at stake, McKay!' Sheppard hissed, throwing him a murderous look. 'I just need to wrap my head around what I'm about to do.'_

_McKay huffed out a laugh. 'What's to get your head around? You need to go play nice with the crazy women, and eventually Sarayah will lead you to the experimental Stargate.'_

'_Sarayah...who is this Sarayah?' Teyla asked._

_Ford suddenly twigged what was going on at the mention of that name. 'Sarayah? Isn't she the –'_

'_Yes...yes...' McKay interrupted, but right here, right now, she's Madam Whiplash and she's just waiting for Major Mishap here to walk into her life...if he ever plucks up the courage.'_

'_It isn't that easy, McKay! When I meet her, I'm gonna set into motion a series of events that will cost a lot of lives. This isn't some schoolgirl crush – a whole civilization is gonna get wiped out by the Wraith because of her obsession. That's not something to take lightly.'_

_McKay rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I'm aware of all that, but if you don't go down there and do your thing, that Stargate remains undiscovered and the future changes. Do I have to remind you how bad things might turn out if the Wraith find it and use it against us all?'_

'_No...'_

'_They would have access to any planet they wanted, including Earth.'_

_Sheppard looked at Teyla and Ford, his face heating up with his increasing anger. 'Did everyone else hear me say "No"?'_

'_Look, I know almost losing Nancy scared you, but that's the operative word 'almost'.' McKay's blue eyes burned with intensity. He desperately wanted to find that gate, and the thought it would be in his grasp only three years from now clearly floated his boat in ways Sheppard couldn't really contemplate, knowing what lay ahead for him. 'If you don't do this, the men and baby boys of this planet will continue to suffer and die at her hands for years to come. Surely you can't let that go on? Something inside you wouldn't let it happen the first time, and you're still the same guy with the same principles this time, right?'_

_Sheppard hadn't imagined Rodney was capable of these levels of emotional blackmail. Evidently, he didn't just work on snide mode. Reluctantly, Sheppard was forced to admit to himself that he made a good argument. He had to see this through._

'_So, what's it to be?' McKay asked, his eagerness shoving his empathy to one side just as it always did._

_Sheppard looked out across the village that was about to change his life for the worst, set his jaw, and uttered the words he recalled from his memories of the last time he'd done this. __'Teyla and I will go down to the village and open up communications. McKay, you and Ford should try to track down those energy spikes and check out whatever's causing them. We'll rendezvous at the jumper in one hour to radio back to Atlantis with our findings.'_

'_Finally! Thank you,' McKay grunted, turning to march away. Then he stopped suddenly, Ford running into the back of him and earning a filthy glare. 'Oh, you want me to do that joke about you always getting to talk to the hot women?'_

'_Not really.'_

'_Okay, I'll just...I'll go then,' he stammered setting off once more._

_Ford watched him go, shaking his head. __'Wouldn't it be better for us all to stick together, Sir?'_

'_You said that last time Ford, and no, it wouldn't. Just go make sure McKay doesn't inadvertently blow up the planet.'_

'_I heard that!' McKay called back, apparently still sore about that little reference._

'_You were meant to!'_

_Once they were alone, Teyla looked at Sheppard with her trademark concern._

'_Ready to head out?' he asked her._

'_I do not understand what is happening here, Major. Who is this Sarayah, and why must you meet with her if she is so dangerous?'_

_He took one last look at the village, his heart sinking. Walking away now would save Nancy from the trauma Sarayah had inflicted on her, rewrite the future, but if the Wraith eventually turned up on Earth and wiped out the population, her fate would be far worse. 'It's a long story...a very long story – which I will tell you, but not right now,' he explained. 'All you need to know today is that when I ask you to leave, you have to leave, no matter what's happening to me.'_

'_Now you are really beginning to worry me –'_

'_Just promise me you'll do as I ask, Teyla. Please.' He reached over and rested his hand on hers where it sat gripping her P-90. She looked down at it, and then met his gaze._

'_Very well, Major. I will do as you ask...I trust you know what you are doing.'_

'John.'

His dream interrupted, Sheppard jumped awake at the sound of his name, finding Sarayah's hand resting on his shoulder, massaging it in a rather too friendly manner. He shrugged it off, regretting the movement as it sent stabs of pain through the stiffening scabs on his back. She stunk of strong beer as she leaned into him; she'd found a huge stash of it in a small store built off the side of the building and she'd been drinking it for the past couple of hours at least, though it could have been longer since he had no idea how long he'd been asleep for. The thought of her mitts, or rather mitt, on him while she was this drunk repulsed him even more than her touch usually did, some nagging memory...perhaps an echo of a future event, told him she was more dangerous than ever when she was in this condition.

'You're exhausted. Come and sit by the fire. I've made a bed for you.'

He looked over at the pile of animal skins and pillows, instantly noticing it looked rather wider than was necessary for one occupant. Oh, that was so not happening while he was still breathing. Having her insist on helping him free of his wet clothes had been bad enough, no way was he making cosy with her for the night. Not that the choice was his to make...she'd just make him do whatever the hell she wanted him to do and he'd have to go along with it, fighting and railing like a kid having a tantrum even though he knows he won't get his own way. He was finding the whole situation overwhelming right now, feeling as utterly powerless as he did. He should have wiped her from existence by now by simply making the decision not to travel to Atlantis, but the fact she was still here meant he was going to see it through, and that made no sense to him at all. No matter how many times he told himself he wasn't ever going through that 'gate, nothing changed. She was still here and Nancy was still gone.

'I'm okay where I am,' he told her, looking back out of the window, something he'd been doing when he'd drifted off to sleep. Outside, he could still just about make out the body of the old Inuit man Sarayah had slaughtered without compunction when taking over his home. The blood stain had stopped spreading from the hole in his chest where she'd ripped his heart out, the flow now frozen by the decreasing temperature and covered in a thin layer of fresh flakes that still fell. Just another life cruelly ended in her drive to rein him in. And just beyond that, in some out buildings, he could hear the mournful wail of his dogs, the only means of transport out in these snow smothered plains, probably hungry and keen for a run. Now their master was gone, they'd probably die out there, too.

'It wasn't a suggestion,' she told him, her touch returning, the grip far more painful this time. Her fingers took hold of the fabric of the fleece sweater he now wore and tugged him from his seat toward the nest she'd made for them in front of the log fire. 'You need to get warm, and I don't intend to lose you to a sickness that can be prevented.'

He knew it was futile to refuse again, so allowed her to tug him over to the skins and steer him to the spot she had in mind for him. His mind was on other things as she wandered out toward the kitchen area and stirred a pot she had warming there on the stove. He couldn't shake his dream, brief as it had been. McKay had said Nancy had "almost" died – had that been wishful thinking, just a hopeful dream, or another glimpse of his future self's memories triggered by Sarayah's touch? He had to know. He had to get Sarayah to take him back to that warehouse to see for himself. But she'd already said she wouldn't do that...not yet.

He looked down at his wrists, now red raw from the chafing of his restraints and sighed. She'd picked a good place to maroon them. Out here there were no cars because the terrain was so difficult, and he doubted many sleds would pass their way. He was stuck here with her until he could figure a way out of there. He'd been hoping she would collapse in a drunken stupor, but she remained worryingly in charge of her faculties considering the vast amount of beer she'd swilled back. Still, maybe if he could just sneak in a blow while she slept...if she did still sleep...or if he got hold of her gun and put a bullet through her head...he could hitch up those hungry dogs and get to civilisation...if bullets could actually kill her...

Her footsteps echoed loud and hollow on the wooden floor behind him as she re-entered the living area carrying something that smelled good even before he knew she was bringing food. Sitting down carefully beside him on the skins, she set down the bowl and instantly ladled a spoonful of broth toward his mouth. 'Here, eat this, then that beautiful creature's death won't have been completely in vain.'

Polar bear soup? He twitched away from it. 'Looks hot.'

'So blow on it,' she suggested, glaring at him.

'Why don't we just let it stand a while?' he countered.

She dropped the spoon back into the bowl with a sigh, setting it down on the hearth. 'Are we really going to fight over a meal again?' she asked, running her hand back through her tousled locks.

'I said I'll eat it later,' he grunted, giving her his answer. 'My mouth hurts enough already without burning it too.'

She stretched out beside him, reclining as if they were on vacation there to relax and soak up the atmosphere. 'These are wonderful clothes to protect against the cold,' she commented, stroking her damaged arm across the fabric of the ski trousers she still wore along with one of Nancy's sweaters.

His jaws clenched. 'They looked better on Nancy,' he spat at her, not even bothering to temper his venom.

Her expression immediately soured at the mention of her name. 'Well I'm sure they did – once. They wouldn't look so good now though, would they. Poor, poor, stinking carcass Nancy, slowly rotting away to feed the flies –'

'Shut up!'

She sat up in a flash, grasping his face hard. 'Don't talk to me that way, John. I'm getting tired of your insolence.'

Incited by her goading, he suddenly felt ready to do battle once more. 'Well, you better get used to it, _sweetheart, _because I'm not about to change for you.'

The thoughts transferring to him from her as he challenged her were violent, frighteningly so, but he didn't care. He couldn't stand her company anymore, needed to force her to act somehow, needed to find some way to catch her out and get away or die in the trying. Something in his memories told him that if he got her upset enough while she was this inebriated, that was the time she was most likely to make a mistake. That or...

The images shifted to something all together different, and before he could react she slammed her mouth hard against his. What was it with this woman? Why did his anger and pain turn her on?

He tried to pull back, the taste of the beer on her tongue making him want to hurl, but her grip on him, while impossible for him to loosen because she dissolved under his touch, remained solid enough to hold him in place. She was just too quick and too skilled to break free from, her cells breaking apart and rebinding in nanoseconds as he clawed at her hand.

Eventually she drew back, her eyes aflame with desire. He scooted away as fast as his bound hands and feet slipping on skins could push him. 'Don't do that!' he hissed, probably the most redundant words he'd ever spoken.

'And what exactly are you going to do to stop me? You know I can take you any time, don't you, John? Any time and any way I choose.'

Yes, he did, a fact he'd been trying very hard not to acknowledge since she'd first swiped him from the warehouse. He didn't have anything to say in response, no clever quip, no growled threat. He just pushed back further as she got onto her knees and crawled toward him, hand after stump, grinning viciously and reminding him of the salivating bear she'd just slain.

Without thinking of the consequences he lashed out, kicking her square in the jaw. For some reason she failed to anticipate the move and he caught her hard, making her squeal. He got some small satisfaction from the noise until she rounded on him, dissipating into the air and then striking him with a flurry of punches and forearm blows he couldn't see coming and so had no hope of defending himself against.

'Is this what you prefer?' she asked, solidifying and pulling him up by the hair, as he gagged on his own blood. 'You want us to fight until you have nothing left to give?'

She let go and swung a left so hard it snapped his head round and made him fall on his face. He felt the weight of her clamber on his back, and she dragged his head back by a fistful of his black locks. 'It doesn't have to be this way,' she whispered against his ear, before planting a kiss just beneath it. 'I'm prepared to be kind while we wait this out...at least some of the time.'

An involuntary shudder shook right through him at the insinuation. 'Lady, I think you and I have very different definitions of the word "kind",' he grunted, straining the words out as she tugged his neck back, making it harder to breathe. He felt kiss after kiss trail along his taut neck muscles, and he screwed his eyes shut against the sensation, hoping beyond hope that she would stop as she had on the previous occasions she'd forced her attentions on him.

'I'm obviously being too gentle with you if you think this isn't a kindness,' she whispered against his ear before nibbling it. 'I think I can make you change your mind.'

Forcefully pushing his head away, she shoved her hand up the back of his fleece and raked her fingernails down his damaged skin. He bucked under her touch, grabbing fistfuls of fur skins as he squirmed and tried to wriggle his way free.

'But this isn't bad enough for you, is it, John? I know because I've done this to you before and it didn't break your spirit then, either. Of course, I can do far worse things to you now. Like this –'

The pain she unleashed sent his brain and body into a frenzy, as if every nerve inside him was firing simultaneously. When the initial wave subsided, just localised pain remained in his kidney region, and he realised she had sunk her hand into him and was disrupting his internal organs, touching raw nerves, bones and muscles alike as she groped around inside him.

'Does it hurt, John? ' she asked, leaning in and practically salivating on him at the anticipation of his answer.

Not that she got one. He could barely draw breath let alone form words.

'How does it feel? Is it agony? If not I can make it worse,' she taunted, he words edged with laughter at his suffering. Apparently she wanted an answer whether he was capable of giving one or not.

'Hurts!' he wheezed, even the small movement required to speak that single word setting all his nerves alight again.

'Maybe you'll appreciate my kindness now then,' she whispered, pulling her hand free to his immediate and almost overwhelming relief. He didn't even notice for the first couple of seconds that she was now stroking her sticky palm across his back and licking the racing pulse spot in his neck. He convulsed against her touches again without thinking of the consequences, only to have his back explode with pain a second time before he had even had time to regain his breath from the first.

'Not ready to play nicely yet? How much worse does it have to get, John? Should I snap a rib? Bruise your kidney? Rupture your spleen? Tear out a lung?'

'Get...off...me...' he panted, the pain cresting as she pushed her hand a little further in and touched something raw and indescribably agonising. 'Stop,' he pleaded, dropping his forehead to the skins beneath him, fighting hard to stay conscious as his mind tried to shut down. Then he wondered why he was trying to stay awake when this would be so much easier if he lost consciousness. But he knew the answer. It was the fear of what she might do to him while he was oblivious that kept him going.

After pulling her hand free of him again she rose and caught hold of his clothes, throwing him onto his back as he struggled to recover. He felt his fleece forced up above his head where she pulled it tight around his still bound hands, pinning his arms to the floor while she kissed his stomach and chest, all the time avoiding his attempts to rip his arms free and buck her off him. Then the kisses turned to bites, first gentle, then much harder, making him cry out and flinch and leaving him wondering again if he wouldn't have been better off grappling with the polar bear.

When she climbed on top of him, continuing to lavish her unwanted kisses up his body, then his neck and finally capturing his mouth with hers he could taste his own blood on her lips and tongue. The tang brought his situation home to him with a clarity as startling as a backhand to his face. There wasn't a single thing he could do or say to stop this assault. All he hope for was to find some way to get through it with his sanity, and hopefully his dignity, intact, impossible as that seemed right now.

So he thought about flying, his mind soaring out of his body and flying free amongst the cloud as he recalled his first ever time at the controls of a light aircraft in lesson at the local airfield. He remembered the sensation of freedom the flight had given him...how privileged he'd felt to be allowed to view the world from such heights. He closed his eyes and saw it all in his mind's eye, giving up on the fight, blocking out the feeling of her tongue probing his mouth and the sting of the bites she'd trailed up his torso.

'What are you doing?'

He'd so successfully blocked the trauma from his mind that he hadn't realised she'd stopped until her words interrupted his daydream. Her near black orbs drilled into him, anger etched into her expression. Sheppard didn't know what to say; he'd thought this was what she wanted.

'I...uh...'

'Why aren't you fighting?'

She still straddled him, his arms pinned above his head and leaving him vulnerable. 'What's the point? Like you said, I can't win.'

'And so you won't fight? Have you really given up for me?'

No...no he hadn't. If he'd thought he stood even the slightest hope of getting free he would still be fighting to his very last breath, but this was futile, soul-destroyingly futile. Nothing he did made a difference. 'You've been threatening and insinuating this since you brought me out here, so let's just get it over with and move on,' he growled, staring at the wooden ceiling and trying to picture that flight again.

But instead of going through with the assault, Sarayah pushed up from him, her footsteps echoing loudly as she stomped away across the wooden floor. After listening out for her return and hearing nothing, Sheppard risked sitting up and shrugging his way back into his fleece. When he peered over his shoulder, he found her glaring at him from a seat tucked up against the wall behind him, her eyes burning with more anger than he'd ever seen anyone display.

'How dare you?' she whispered, only just loud enough for him to hear.

His heart sank at the words, the sense that this was about to get even uglier making his skin prickle. 'I thought it was what you wanted. You wanted me to give up.'

'But you're not, are you?' she yelled, leaping up and running her hands back through her messy locks. 'You're not giving up...you're imposing your terms, just as you have on every aspect of my life. Well, not this time. When I conquer you, I want you to sob at my feet, not tell me to "get it over with and move on".'

'Well, then I guess you'll be waiting a long time,' he smirked, his bravado returning as he sensed some amount of reticence in her.

'I can be patient.'

He laughed, looking around at everything in the room, seeing the romance in it all. If he needed evidence of her softer side it was here to see. She wasn't a total monster, there was some humanity in her. And if she still had some humanity, it was a weakness he could exploit.

'I don't get it,' he said, edging toward her. 'You set all this up to get me alone...even got rid of my wife so no one would come between us. Now I'm offering myself to you on a plate and you say no?'

The hardness left her eyes for just a second, but he caught it. He had her on the defensive. She hadn't been expecting this. She wanted his defiance, not his agreement. He could push this further.

'Look, you were right about my marriage...it was dead...well dying at least. I'm sick of acting like I'm not interested out of some misplaced loyalty to Nancy when she didn't give a damn about me. When you kissed me back at the SGC...I...' he huffed out a laugh, acting coy as he dropped his gaze to the floor. 'I felt something between us I haven't experienced for a long time...and I liked it.'

She didn't answer, her silence telling him more than any words could. He'd shaken her.

So he lifted his eyes to hers again, well aware of the impact one of his "looks" could have on a woman. Hell, he'd employed it often enough before Nancy came on the scene. 'Didn't you?'

Her eyes were moist, and she blinked furiously to keep tears at bay. Was she frightened, angry, happy? He really couldn't read her right now, but he forged on regardless, certain this was his only route out of the seemingly inevitable assault. He edged closer again, lifting his bound hands and stroking his thumb down her cheek. 'Got nothin' to say?'

Up close he could feel she was trembling. That was new. He'd never seen her exhibit this kind of emotion before. Even though his natural instinct was to withdraw in case he was making things worse he pushed on, cupping her face in his hands and moving in for a kiss. She didn't resist, but didn't reciprocate either, her mouth dead beneath his.

He closed his eyes, shutting out his revulsion and digging into her feelings instead, trying to seek out how this made her feel, trying to really understand what motivated her. At first he sensed a thrill of excitement, not his own, then a rush of desire, again not his. But both of those sensations were suddenly crushed by a rising wave of abject fear. The image of Sarayah in his mind was replaced by a girl child with raven locks, huddled against a tree bole in the dark while feet crunched through fallen leaves somewhere nearby. They were hunting for her...two men...escaped prisoners...out there in the dark woods of Medulsa.

'_Come out, pretty one, and we promise not to hurt you...too much.'_

_He felt Sarayah jerk at the sound of those words, but he tightened his grip on her. The men were recent prisoners, strong, resilient, not like the other weaker men the women of Medulsa had oppressed from birth. Military...they had uniforms; he could see that from the matching boots the little girl could see standing right beside her hiding place, lit only by the moonlight. Then a meaty hand grabbed her arm and she screamed..._

Sarayah melted from his grip, leaving him stumbling in the empty space she'd once filled. For a few seconds he was stunned by the revelation. He'd been so determined to turn the tables on her he hadn't considered for a second that she might already know how it felt.

'That wasn't real...it was just a nightmare.'

Her voice was strong, but quaked as she spoke from somewhere behind him. She was lying. The memories were still unlocking for him, flashes he'd seen and was now piecing together as rapidly as his brain could cope with.

The men had broken out of a cell in the village the very same day they'd been captured. They'd broken into Sarayah's home seeking weapons and had killed her mother and grandmother in the process. She'd slipped away, fearing for her own life, but they'd spotted her and run her down in night through those woods.

'_Did you ever go hunting in the dark?' _Those words held more resonance than ever now as he recalled them.

He turned around to face her. 'I'm so sorry –'

She disappeared and in a whirl he felt himself swept up and thrown across the room, slamming against the wooden wall and sinking to the floor, winded.

'Did you not hear what I said? I told you it was only a nightmare.'

Maybe it formed her nightmares now, but it had been real once, he was sure of it. Those men had found her and done unspeakable things...and she'd killed them in return. That was how this had all begun. The blame for her problem, whatever the hell it was, did not lie with him at all. She'd merely placed blame with him because he reminded her somehow of this painful event. Military...that had to be the link.

'Look, I understand how you feel...kind of...But there are people who can help...people like Dr Jeffries. You can talk to him, get all those feelings and fears out of your system.'

She stalked across the room as he spoke, picking him up with her unimaginable strength and flinging him again, leaving him sliding across the floor and colliding with a table. The oil lamp sitting on it crashed to the floor and the floorboards began to burn.

Coming quickly to his senses, Sheppard scrambled away from the flames and towards the door, Sarayah appearing and blocked his way.

'We need to get out. This place is going up,' he told her, but she stood firm all the same.

'This isn't how it's meant to be, John. You're not supposed to pity me...YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!'

She punched him, hard. It floored him instantly, his legs left too uncoordinated to help him rise despite the mounting heat behind him. 'So that's it. I'm no good to you now I'm not afraid of you?'

He saw genuine confusion flit across her face before she fixed her face in a frown. 'Maybe you still can be. Maybe I'll just have to work harder at making you fear me.'

_Crap! _That hadn't been part of his plan, either.

She caught hold of his fleece, eyes piercing into his. 'Forget what you saw. That weak little girl does not exist.'

Then he sensed it, the tingling that heralded another trip. This was his chance, he'd shaken her, even manipulated her a little. Maybe somehow, if he concentrated hard enough, when their cells broke apart and mingled he could influence their journey. So he closed his eyes and thought of the warehouse, and of Nancy's body hanging limp as he'd been torn away from there...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, dear. I think he may have just pushed the wrong buttons there...as if Sarayah actually has any right buttons!**

**As always, thanks to all those of you reading and reviewing. It makes the effort worthwhile. :) And JoeyLuv, I tried to say thanks to you directly, but your account has now disenabled messages to you. I thought I'd better let you know incase you hadn't changed your settings on purpose!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

Dr Carson Beckett had never been to Stargate Command before, and he really wasn't sure he liked it there. Though he'd heard a lot about the complex and the important transportation device it housed, it was a far cry from the light and airy facilities he was used to at work, and even further from the glorious views of bonnie Scotland he kept very close to his heart, even though his work had taken him to foreign shores. It was even far from the beautiful and historic examples of architecture dotted around his beloved Paisley, making him aprreciate the town he'd so taken for granted when living there even more.

He rode downwards for over twenty floors with two convincingly stony SFs for company, before the elevator doors pulled back and revealed the far more friendly smiling face of Janet Fraiser. She allowed him to step out before extending her hand in friendship. 'Welcome to the SGC, Dr Beckett, it's lovely to meet you in person at last.'

'Aye, it's lovely to meet you too, Dr Fraiser. But please, call me Carson.'

'Carson it is,' she beamed, 'as long as you return the favour.'

'That I will, Janet. That I will.'

She gestured for him to follow her, and he was surprised when his two escorts continued to accompany him. 'I understand there've been some developments since we first talked about the genetics results on those samples you sent over,' he said, covering his nervousness with his desire to know what he was getting into.

'Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't go into details on the phone, but I think you might have some insight that will be useful on a project we're working on right now. That's why I asked you to come.'

'And this project...it's linked to the samples?'

She gave him a tight smile. 'In a manner of speaking. Don't worry Carson, all will be revealed very soon, I promise.'

'Just as long as I'm not in any trouble,' he muttered, glancing at his burly companions one more time.

Eventually they made it to the conference room, where he found a collection of strange faces looking expectantly in his direction as he entered.

Janet made the necessary introductions as she directed him to an empty seat beside him.

'As you know, I asked Dr Beckett to join us following the tests he ran recently on the samples I sent to him. He's a renowned expert in genetics.'

Hammond focused his watery blue eyes on Carson, 'Was there anything specific you think we should be aware of in the samples we asked you to check, Dr Beckett?'

'Well,' he began, hearing a slight quaver in his voice as he said it, 'As I've already mention via a video link with Janet...err...Dr Fraiser, I was able to detect three blood samples, all of them contaminated by the same detergent type material, but two of them identifiable as that of Sarayah and that of Major Sheppard. The third,' he paused, huffing out a laugh. 'The third has us all baffled. It appeared to bear some similarities to the swine genus, but at the same time it's very different.'

Carter leaned forward, obviously keen to hear more. 'Was there anything unusual about Sarayah's blood work?'

He wondered what exactly she meant, but just set the facts out exactly as he'd found them. 'Not particularly. Genetically, she's exactly the same as you or I, but there are traces of elements present that I haven't seen in any sample I've worked with before. That probably just means she normally lives in an environment I'm not familiar with...although, having run the results through our extensive database, I couldn't find a match in blood taken from any region held on it.'

'No...that's not entirely surprising...' Daniel said carefully his eyes moving to the general.

Carson's own gaze was drawn toward the large man with the gold tattoo on his forehead sitting opposite him. The image appeared to be of a snake of some kind, and he couldn't help but think it was an odd place to choose to put such a sizable mark. The man himself gave off an air of serenity that felt mismatched with everyone else seated there. The others all seemed tense, while he exuded a genuine calmness.

'And the uncontaminated sample of Sarayah's blood...that didn't display any _unusua_l properties?' Janet asked him.

Carson arched an eyebrow, sensing from everything that had happened since his arrival and the direction this questioning session was taking that he was getting into something he really didn't want to be involved in. 'No...is there anything specific you're referring to?' he asked, certain he wasn't going to like the answer.

'Sarayah is currently missing,' the general told him, leaning forward and knitting his fingers in front of him on the long table. 'She escaped from a cell that should have been impenetrable by completely disassembling her body and passing through it.'

Carson blinked at him, 'Excuse me?'

'Oh, you heard him right,' the one called McKay grinned. 'It was actually pretty amazing –' He seemed to noticed the frowns creeping onto everyone else's faces at that point ' – in a very dangerous and perplexing way.'

Carson looked to Janet for some sign that this was a joke. She looked solemn, and just gave a brisk nod. 'Er...well...I can confirm that her blood sample didn't show any inclination to do anything like that.'

'Which means my theory that the 'gate had somehow been absorbed into Sarayah's physiology could be correct,' Major Carter announced, tapping her pen on the pad she had laid out in front of her. 'Prior to travelling through it her genetics were pretty much normal.'

'Oh, that's a pretty big assumption, wouldn't you say?' McKay sneered, folding his arms over his chest with a lop-sided and decidedly smug smirk.

'No...I wouldn't,' she asserted.

With absolutely no idea what any of them were talking about now, Carson was left floundering. 'Er...is this _'gate _anything to do with those trace elements I found?'

'No...that's most likely because we believe she's from another planet,' Carter told him, matter-of-fact.

Again, he allowed himself a moment to process that information. The fact the facility housed a means of interplanetary travel was no secret to him. He'd had the full debriefing about the Stargate when they'd asked him to look into the cure for a sickness in a woman they'd discovered in the ice in Antarctica several months ago. She, too, had been alien...well, certainly different, leading him to form the opinion that her race was an earlier form of humans killed out by the plague that had almost killed most of the people who found her. But that hadn't been the only interesting thing in her blood work. It had shown a very specific gene in high quantities that made her quite different to most humans, despite her similarities, and genetically advanced in comparison.

'You believe?' he echoed, looking around at them. 'Shouldn't you know? You have the only operational Stargate on this planet.'

'That's what _we _thought,' O'Neill quipped, drawing doodles on the notepad in front of him and not even looking up from them.

Carson sighed, still none the wiser. 'I think you'd better take this back to basics for me because I have no idea what any of you are talking about.'

Carter slid a file across the table to him, and he flipped it open, the face of an attractive woman with the hardest eyes he'd ever seen staring back at him. He didn't know why, but it immediately sent a shiver down his spine.

'This is Sarayah I take it?' he asked, quickly scanning the information on that page.

'It is,' Carter nodded. 'She appeared out of nowhere at the scene of an RPG attack in Afghanistan. She claims to be from a planet called Medulsa.'

He flicked to the next page sine the major had already summarised the information on that first page. That one carried a picture of a man in his early thirties who was apparently the owner of the fascinating blood sample he'd analysed.

'And this is Major Sheppard? It's nice to put a name to a genetic test.'

'As we said, Sarayah is currently missing...and she took Major Sheppard with her.'

Carson looked up from the page, brows knitted in consternation. 'Why?'

'Oh, she has her own agenda that she hasn't quite let us in on,' O'Neill drawled, leaning back in his seat now and fixing him with a firm stare. The man was clearly angry, but Carson sensed it wasn't with him.

'When she was first picked up, she was ranting about her hatred for John Sheppard, claiming that he'd summoned something called the Divine One and it had taken her hand,' Daniel explained.

'We believe the Divine One was actually some kind of experimental Stargate gone wrong, and that it suffered some kind of catastrophic error as she passed into it. It shut down and severed her hand,' Carter continued, filling in the gaps.

'And she holds the major responsible,' Carson sighed, shaking his head. 'Is she considered dangerous?'

'Uh...yes...yes, she's very dangerous.' Carson couldn't help but notice how uncomfortable Daniel looked as he said that, and now that he looked at him, he could see that his face showed the signs of a recent fight. Perhaps he had first-hand experience of just how dangerous she could be.

'This is all absolutely fascinating, but what exactly do you think I can do to help?'

'Well, if Sarayah is genetically connected to this advanced Stargate as we suspect she may be –' Carter cast McKay a disparaging look as if challenging him to question her theory again, 'we're going to need you to help extracting it from her and reorganising her genetics into their former state.'

'Ah, I see.'

He didn't really. He was a geneticist, not a physicist, but he supposed he might be able to come up with something helpful. The others continued to chat through theories and plans, most of which went right over Carson's head. He'd been well aware of the Stargate programme for a while now, but he'd only ever worked on their genetic projects, like working on a vaccine for the sickness that had affected Ayiana and almost killed Colonel O'Neill, the alien found in Antarctica, and identifying her differences from everyday humans today. But a woman who had somehow physiologically fused with Ancient technology...now that was something way beyond his usual area of expertise.

The banter continued around him, with those gathered there trading ideas and insults freely, the general at the head of the table clearly used to their debating style and happy to allow this process to see itself through to its natural fruition.

It seemed these people, or more specifically Major Carter and Dr McKay, two brilliant minds without a doubt, had come up with a method of capturing and holding their missing alien, but how to implement their plan was causing much consternation. Apparently, the plan relied on precise timing, capturing Sarayah in their storage device at a precise moment in her dematerialisation when all her cells broke apart, but before they began to travel to their new destination. It occurred to him then, as they argued the pros and cons of how and when to deploy their device, that they were missing a vital part of the puzzle, perhaps one they had already discarded, but one he felt compelled to point out.

'Er, I realise that I could never hope to attain the kind of intelligence required to fathom out a solution to this wee problem you have...but could it be possible that this experimental 'gate you think Sarayah has absorbed reacts to people with a certain gene...such as those who have a close genetic link to the Ancients you think created it?'

Carter frowned. 'What makes you ask?'

'Well,' he replied, flipping back to the earlier pages of the file. 'It says here that she claims John Sheppard summoned the Divine One that you're now calling a Stargate. Major Sheppard's blood sample has the highest correlation to the sample taken from Ayiana in Antarctica. He's about as close a relative to this original evolution of humans as I've ever seen. So I was wondering whether that might have some link to his ability to control this "Divine One".'

Several stunned faces stared back at him, and finally McKay confessed, 'Actually, we hadn't thought of that.'

'Oh, right,' Carson replied, feeling a little awkward. 'Well, far be it from me to step on anyone's toes...'

'No...this is good...this is very good,' Carter encouraged, her big blue eyes bright with enthusiasm. 'So if your theory is right, and it kind of makes sense that a race as advanced as the Ancients would want to build in some kind of safety protocol to prevent other people or species from using a 'gate this extraordinary, someone with this "Ancient" gene for want of a better description might actually be able to exert some kind of control over Sarayah's movements.'

'Aye, I was thinking something like that. Of course, I could be wrong, but if I'm right, it might give you a better chance of getting the timing right for your containment device.'

From a couple of seats away, McKay snorted, 'Are we really going to rely on this mumbo jumbo to make our plan work? We should focus on timing...review all the footage we have of her, spot the tells in the way she operates.'

'There's some basis for Dr Beckett's suggestion, McKay,' Carter countered. 'We know Sarayah said John has a link to the Ancestors, and now his blood work has shown that's true. It's a plausible theory.'

'As plausible as your idea that Sarayah has morphed into a Stargate?' She glared at him, and the scientist backed down, holding up his hands. 'Just thought someone should say it.'

'Thanks for volunteering,' O'Neill sniped. 'So, to summarise, it's possible that someone with this Ancient gene could control Sarayah's movements? So like, we think Maui, and off she goes?'

'Well, it's possible that the technology has some kind of mental interface...think about the Ancient repository that downloaded into your head –'

'I'd rather not,' O'Neill winced at what he clearly considered a painful memory.

'I understand, Sir, but it demonstrated the mental interaction of human and technology that the Ancients may have built into their other devices.'

'And there may have been a very good reason why the repository downloaded so readily into your mind, Colonel,' Carson added. 'From the samples of infected blood I received after your contact with Ayiana, you also have a high representation of Ancient genetics.'

O'Neill's eyebrows lifted in what looked like genuine surprise. 'I do?'

'Yes, you do.'

O'Neill smirked at the others, some of whom seemed surprised if not a little envious of that news, then said, 'Well, I guess that makes me a perfect candidate to take that device over to Afghanistan. Carter, show me how it works...with your permission, General?'

'Permission granted,' Hammond immediately responded. 'In fact, I'd like to know some more about this device myself.'

Hammond rose from his seat, and everyone else followed suit. Beside Carson, Janet gathered up her things and gave him a warm smile. 'You may want to see this, too.'

'Oh, right...yes,' he blustered, collecting up the file of information and his own notes and following the doctor from the room.

And he'd thought working in a genetics lab was exciting. He had a horrible feeling he was about to find out what excitement was really all about.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard reassembled feeling completely drained, folding immediately to his knees before dropping on his face. The unforgiving wooden floor grazed his cheekbone. Wood...could they really be...?

He dared to lift his head and open his eyes to the sight of the warehouse, spotting the beam Nancy had been suspended from.

She wasn't there.

'Yes!' he hissed triumphantly. Though he still had no way of knowing if she'd survived, the thought she wasn't still hanging there as fly bait brought him some comfort.

But not for long.

A seething, brooding anger was brewing in the room, filling it up and crushing the natural light and air from the room. Time to try to diffuse things.

'I thought you weren't gonna bring me back here yet,' he said innocently, pushing up to his hands and knees, then sitting back on his heels.

'No, I wasn't,' she growled, her body notably rigid as if even the slightest movement might be more than she could contain.

'Huh! I guess it must've been on your mind.'

Only the slightest tick in her right eye moved her face at all. 'No, it wasn't.'

He swallowed nervously, glad he'd seen Nancy was no longer here, but fearful now of what this enforced calm on Sarayah's behalf would lead to. 'That's weird.'

She took two slow steps toward him, the stench of alcohol still strong on her ragged breaths, then punched him. He tilted, pitching to the side and slamming onto the wooden floor again.

'You do not have control here, John. Nancy is dead, whether her body is here or not. Her blood is thick on the floor. She could not have survived. Do you understand?'

She lashed out again, one of her heavy boots driving into his stomach. He curled reflexively to relieve the pain. 'Yeah, I got that!' he wheezed, crying out as she slammed her foot down on his hip.

'Have you? Really? You tell so many lies how can I ever know?'

Another bone crunching kick landed on his thigh this time, then he was suddenly airborne, lifted by the energy of Sarayah's mode of personal transport and tossed across the room as if he weighed no more than paper. He landed in an untidy heap, amazed he hadn't broken anything. At least he didn't think he had. The pain wasn't quite that bad yet.

Sarayah rematerialised a few feet away. '"My marriage was dying"..."I'm tired of acting like I'm not interested out of misplaced loyalty to Nancy"...ALL LIES! You were thinking of her the whole time. _You_ made us come here.'

He had to take the wind out of her sails before she ripped him apart, so he went for the one weakness he'd seen...those horrific childhood memories.

'Men have always lied to you, haven't they?'

He flinched as she covered those last few feet of safety in her energy state, then picked him up by the front of his fleece. 'Men are worthless scum. Nothing they ever say can be trusted.'

'Yeah, and I'm guessing you learned that the hard way.'

She dropped him unceremoniously back to the floor, glaring down at him. 'I told you, that wasn't real.'

Though he felt like a heel for doing it, he kept on pushing her. 'Is that how you cope...by denying it?'

Tears welled up out of nowhere, her bottom lip trembling slightly. 'It. Didn't. Happen.'

'No? Are you sure about that? I mean, it would go a long way to explaining why you chose the job you did. You had to keep the other women in your village safe. Only _you _really understood how dangerous men could be, right?'

She forced on some bravado, but it was a thin veneer at best. 'You, _pretty one_, know nothing about me. Don't pretend you do. '

'I know that's what they called you...those men that hunted you down. Is that why you call me pretty one? Do you wanna make me feel how they made you feel?'

She looked visibly shocked that he knew so much detail of her attack, backing away a few steps and shaking her head. 'It wasn't real.'

Getting back to his feet and limping toward her, he managed to back her into a corner. She looked small and vulnerable, but he wasn't foolish enough to think he'd bettered her yet. 'I saw what happened to you, Sarayah. Those men...they deserved what you did to them. But it didn't make you feel better, did it? And no matter how many men you hurt, your pain never goes away. But there are people who can make you feel better. If you trust me, I'll get you the help you need.'

'Who? Dr Beckett and his pointless pills, or Dr Heightmeyer and her inane questions?' You already tried that...and now here I am.'

He had no idea who those people were, but pressed on regardless. 'Then we'll try something else. You can't just keep killing people to ease your pain.'

She pressed into the exposed brickwork wall, eyes glistening, body trembling. 'They would have killed me if I hadn't killed them first.'

'They were angry at their treatment...just like you were.'

The instant the words left his mouth he knew that had been the wrong thing to say. A fire ignited in her, and suddenly she didn't look so tiny and frail anymore. Slamming her hand into his chest sent him staggering back, and landing on his butt.

'So you think they were justified...just like you were when you prostituted yourself with me to gain your freedom on Medulsa?'

That wasn't a memory he was familiar with. Prostituting himself? That didn't sound like him. He scuttled back trying to put space between them as she stalked after him.

'A little cruel, don't you think, John? Opening up my old wounds and using them against me. Not very honourable, is it?' She scrubbed a tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, then tugged out a knife from her belt. 'But you're just like them, aren't you, John? You would kill me too if you had half a chance.'

He couldn't deny it. What was the point? Of course he would kill her, but she was a psychopath now, not a cowering child.

In a flash she was on him, pinning him to the hard floor with the knife to his throat. 'I should just bleed you dry here and now.'

'Go ahead,' he challenged, staring her right in the eyes. 'Because if you don't, you know I _will _find a way to kill you.'

The blade pressed in, and he closed his eyes, truly believing she meant to see it through. An instant of pain pulsed as his skin split, she pulled the knife back. He felt her body jerk on his, and a metallic clattering sound told him she'd flung it away.

He dared to look and found her hand to her face, covering it from his view. He was about to speak when she snatched it away, clenching it into a fist and pounding down on his chest with it, screaming, 'Get out of my head!' Then she disappeared, leaving him lying there, clutching at his battered breastbone.

Was that it? Had she left him there to find his own way to help? Was it finally over?

He sat up, a trickle of blood running down his neck and soaking into the collar of his fleece. The warehouse was completely silent now, the air clear of the horribly oppressive atmosphere he'd come to associate with it. Away across the floor he spotted a dark patch beneath the beam where Nancy had hung...Nancy's blood. He crawled toward it, kneeling beside it as if he could learn something from it if he stared at it long enough. Of course he couldn't tell anything other than she'd lost a lot of blood, but the fact she wasn't here along with the dream he'd had earlier filled him with renewed hope that she'd somehow survived Sarayah's attempts to kill her.

And so, figuring if he didn't get off his butt and out of there, no one else was going to help him, he forced himself up onto his feet and stumbled towards the stairs, racing down to the double doors at the north side that led to the outside world. They were locked from the outside, which made sense since the building was unused. Another set at the south side proved just as immovable. Someone had obviously been back since the rescue to secure the building. Unless Sarayah had moved Nancy herself and now held her body who knew where to torture him with at a later date...

That kind of thinking was getting him nowhere, so he ran back upstairs and looked around for the knife Sarayah had cast aside, figuring it might just help him break the lock, or prise open a window at the very least. He found it a few minutes later and returned to the ground floor, working at the door, sliding the blade between the two panels and desperately trying to loosen one of the metal plates screwed to the doors that the padlock fed through. But it wouldn't budge.

So he climbed up onto a window sill and began forcing the frame, trying to pop the weaker window lock, the blade bending under the strain.

'You seem keen to leave for someone so desperate to get here,' Sarayah's voiced echoed in vastness of the hollow room behind him.

He froze, the knife almost slipping from his grasp. Why had he allowed himself to believe it was that easy to be rid of her?

'Well, you know...there's not much happening here so I thought I'd go check out the neighbourhood,' he quipped, turning to face her, concealing the weapon behind his back.

'I see.' She looked composed now. Had that been why she'd left, to take time out to pull herself together before tackling him again? 'Thought you'd look for someone else to work your charm on?'

He shrugged. 'All's fair in love and war.'

'And in the interest of fairness, I've decided to help you unburden yourself of your secrets, too,' she growled, sauntering toward him. 'Because you were hurt like me, weren't you?'

Sheppard felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. 'No...no, I wasn't. It stopped short of that.'

'Yet it left its indelible mark on your psyche,' she smirked. 'And unlike my attackers, I'm betting your persecutor is still crawling around on this planet of yours somewhere. If you want to get out of here so much, let's go see him instead.'

She reached out to touch him and he seized what he saw as an opportunity to strike, lashing out with the knife he'd been hiding. Sarayah's arm simply melted away the split second he swung it, reforming in time to catch his wrist and twist it almost to breaking point. He dropped to his knees and was forced to release the weapon, though it brought him no relief because she held him there like that. Whatever weakness he'd seized on earlier was clearly gone. Now she meant to make him pay for exposing it...and this was one memory he'd hoped never to relive.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Uh, oh! I think he made her mad now...well madder anyway!**

**There won't be an update tomorrow as I'm out for the day to celebrate New Year with family, so I'll wish you all a very Happy New Year now and I hope you all enjoy yourselves however you chose to celebrate it. I'll be back on Monday with more! :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

When they resumed their corporeal forms, Sheppard was still on his knees before Sarayah, his arm throbbing as the cells realigned. She thankfully released him, walking away as she examined the room.

'So this is your father's home. It's very beautiful. I see your family does have money after all.'

Sheppard stayed down, peering around and trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror inching its way up his spine. This wasn't his dad's house, but he recognised it instantly; the beautiful antique furniture were just as he remembered them, even though it had been twenty-two years since the last time he'd set foot in this room. But no...it wasn't exactly as he'd last seen it. The sofas were different; they were a lighter shade than the one he'd stood before on his last visit, when his father had forced him to offer a reluctant apology to the man who had almost robbed him of his childhood innocence. The sight of the pompous older man drinking in his disingenuous words and every minute detail of that room was drilled into his memory no matter how hard he tried to forget about it. So this wasn't that exact time...but when was it?

'So, where's your father, John?'

Sheppard didn't say anything. He wanted to bolt for the door and get the hell out of there, but he knew she wouldn't allow that until she was satisfied he'd suffered. All he could do was hope Laurel wasn't home so he could avoid meeting him.

Sarayah wandered casually around the walls, admiring the various classical paintings hanging there, many of them depicting the male form. 'He certainly has an eye for beauty, pretty one. No wonder he couldn't resist your charms.'

Much as his relationship with his father was shattered beyond repair, Sheppard couldn't continue to allow her to besmirch his character. 'This isn't my dad's house. He didn't try to...hurt me.'

Her head snapped around in his direction, her confusion plain to see. 'But I heard it from your own lips. You were begging him to stop as I lashed you for information. You were delirious, but I know what I heard.'

The painful memory of the beating he'd taken from his father's belt overwhelmed his discomfort at returning to Senator Laurel's home. It had been the only time his father had ever struck him, and he had never found the strength to forgive him for it. Not that it was the pain that mattered, it was the betrayal, the fact his father had sided with a paedophile rather than offering him support when he'd most needed it. It had left him with a sense of isolation he'd never quite shaken, not even Dave had been willing to listen to his protests of innocence.

'Your ears were working fine, but your interpretation was off,' he told her, finally getting to his feet. 'So since you screwed up your own plan, can we get out of here now?'

Sarayah narrowed her eyes, heading his way. 'After all the horrible places I've taken you to recently I would have thought you would be happy to spend time in a house like this.'

'Well, it's a nice idea, but since I'm likely to get prosecuted for breaking and entering, I'd prefer not to be here when the owner gets back.'

A very slight smile curled the corners of Sarayah's mouth. 'You seem to be in a hurry to leave. Are you sure there isn't more to this discomfort than a fear of imprisonment? Perhaps this is the home of the real culprit.'

She slammed her palm against his forehead, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto one of the sofas with Sarayah landing on top of him. She raided his mind, digging into memories deeply hidden and raking through until she found what she wanted and dragged it out into the light. 'Senator Laurel?' she hissed. 'A politician?' She stroked his damp hair back from his forehead almost affectionately. 'A trusted statesman took advantage of you...no wonder you have a problem with authority figures.'

The sound of glass clinking on glass caught their attention through the slightly open door. From where he was laid, Sheppard could see the shadow being cast by someone moving in a room across the hallway. It was Laurel's office, and even though the sun was starting to set outside now, he was clearly still working at whatever the old pervert did these days. He'd heard the man had retired from the senate, but he had his finger in so many pies he doubtless had plenty to keep him busy. Hopefully busy enough not to be harassing any young boys any more. A twinge of guilt bit at him. He should have stood up to his father and reported the creep. Who knew how many more boys the lousy bastard had touched up since then? Unless this was some point in the past and Laurel was still working for the senate...but how far in the past? He could have changed those sofas a year after his apology...a month...a day...

'Seems we have company. Let's go and announce ourselves,' Sarayah suggested, catching him by the shirtfront and dragging his reluctant carcass toward the door. He dug his heels in and refused to budge but it was a useless act, because she simply disintegrated them both and reassembled him in the other room before he knew what was happening and had a chance to influence their trip.

Laurel had his back to them, pouring himself a whiskey from a decanter on the bureau behind his huge mahogany desk. Laurel had never done anything by halves. The desk and its proportions spoke volumes about his ego and inflated sense of self importance. As did the silk smoking jacket he wore over his everyday clothing. The stench of Camel cigarettes clung to everything, and brought with it a flash of memory, Laurel's clammy hands pulling at his school clothes and reaching up inside his shirt to touch his body before he could break away. A cold sweat of panic broke out on Sheppard's brow as he watched the old man's shaky hand replace the stopper on the decanter, turning now toward them with his glass of whiskey in hand.

Laurel froze as his eyes met them, the glass raised halfway to his tight, dry lips. 'Who the hell are you people?' he demanded, his voice cracked and weaker than Sheppard recalled.

He was old, Sheppard realised with huge relief. But there was more than that. Something was wrong with him, and now mastering his initial panic, Sheppard scanned the room, taking in various items of medical paraphernalia dotted about including an oxygen bottle and mask, and a syringe of medication sitting filled but thus far unused on the desk. The rattling as he breathed said all Sheppard needed to hear to figure out the man was sick – very sick.

After a second or two of strained silence, Sarayah piped up, 'Won't you answer the man, John?'

Laurel squinted at them, then set down his glass, fumbling about on his desktop until he found a set of glasses hidden beneath a pile of paperwork. He stared long and hard at Sheppard, then realisation slowly dawned on him.

'John Sheppard? Is that really you? Your daddy told me you were out on the front line in Afghanistan.' The old man's eyes drifted over him, taking in his battered appearance. 'Did those Al Qaeda types do this to you?'

Sheppard didn't answer, couldn't if he'd wanted to. In his imagination, way back when his hideous experience had still been fresh and raw, he'd gone over exactly what he would say to Laurel if they ever met face to face and alone time and again, but now, looking at the frail pathetic creature before him, he couldn't think of a single thing to say to him. He slid his gaze toward Sarayah. 'Are we done yet?'

Sarayah broke into a broad smile. 'Oh, I don't think so, do you, John? We only just got here.'

'Who's this woman, John? She your girlfriend?' Laurel screwed his eyes up tighter, as if bringing Sarayah into sharper focus. 'Thought you married Philip's daughter, Nancy.'

'He did,' Sarayah interrupted, 'but she's dead now. I killed her.'

His eyebrows twitching up, Laurel broke out into a fit of coughing so severe he had to reach for the oxygen mask from his tank just to get through it. 'That's some sense of humour you have, missy,' he wheezed as he brought the attack under control, his gaze moving between them. As if sensing something amiss, he finally shifted it to Sheppard and left it there. 'She is joking, isn't she?'

In truth, Sheppard didn't know. He was still clinging to the slim hope his brief dream had given him. He shook his head at Laurel, still unable to find the enthusiasm to speak to him.

'All right, young lady. I don't know what kind of a prank you two are pulling here, but there are laws against breaking into a man's house and harassing him. You get your asses the hell out of here right now, or so help me I'll have the two of you carted away quicker than you can say "Not guilty".'

He picked up his cell phone, but before he could even thumb in the first number both Sarayah and it were gone.

'It's very rude to make phone calls while you have company, wouldn't you say, John?' she purred as she reappeared beside the old man.

'What the he...how'd you do that?' Laurel demanded.

Sarayah's only response was to slap her hand to his forehead and raid his mind for a version of the memory Sheppard was unable to supply.

The old man crumpled to the floor, but she kept her hand in contact with him the whole time, even as Sheppard felt his protective streak rear its head and force him to intervene. Pervert or not, the man was clearly sick and she was killing him.

By the time he'd knocked her hand away and helped the frail man into his big leather office chair, Sarayah was already more than pleased with her work.

'Oh, Senator Laurel. You have been a very naughty boy, haven't you?' she smirked, perching on the edge of his desk while Sheppard slipped the oxygen mask over his gaping, gasping mouth.

'Give the man a break, Sarayah. Can't you see he's sick?'

'Oh, I've seen just how sick he is, John,' she assured him. 'I don't believe you understand quite how lucky you were to get out of that attack as easily as you did. If your_ daddy_ hadn't come home and interrupted things, he wouldn't have stopped, would you, Senator?'

Sheppard snatched his hands away from the old man. Sarayah could well be lying to freak him out, but he suspected she wasn't. He'd always felt he'd had a lucky escape, that Laurel had planned to take full advantage of their alone time. He gazed down at the man, his lip curling involuntarily, then stalked away, his wrists now rubbed so raw from lifting Laurel while still in his tight restraints that they were bleeding. He headed over to the window, staring out across the darkening gardens that lay beyond it to try to find some calm.

A hand snaked up to his shoulder. 'You should see what I saw inside his sordid little mind,' she whispered, the odour of beer still heavy on her breath. 'The things he wanted to do to you...you have no idea how frustrated you left him.'

'Oh, I have some idea...I've seen plenty enough of your _sordid little mind_ to know how he felt.'

'You would compare me to that creature?' she growled, her grip on his shoulder beginning to hurt now. 'You provoked me to act against you. He...he took advantage of a defenceless child.'

'You killed your newborn baby; I think that pretty much trumps anything he could've done, don't you?'

She spun him, swinging a left that connected hard with his jaw and knocked him to his knees. Without a word, she stalked away, back toward where Laurel's laboured breathing signalled just how scared the guy was now. She ripped the oxygen mask from his face. 'Do you have a knife?'

'Wh...what for?' he stammered,

'To cut his restraints,' she told him, dipping her head in Sheppard's direction.

'Kitchen,' the man panted. 'There's a whole block of them.'

'I'll be right back. Don't you two go anywhere,' she warned, evaporating before their eyes.

Laurel immediately started rifling through his desk drawers, pulling out a revolver.

'Put that thing away. It won't do any good,' Sheppard hissed from across the room.

'What the hell is she? A ghost?' Laurel demanded, checking how many rounds were in the barrel.

'As good as,' Sheppard replied. 'The gun won't work. You'll just give her ideas.'

Laurel held onto the weapon a moment or two longer, then tossed it back into his drawer, reaching instead for a packet of cigarettes and pulling one free.

Sheppard shook his head. 'Seriously? You're not sick enough already?'

This time, Laurel didn't take Sheppard's advice, picking up a gold lighter from his desk top and lighting up. He took a long draw before responding this time. 'Believe me, kid. I'm so sick it really doesn't matter anymore.'

Sheppard watched him drag on the cigarette again, hating the way it made that awful smell even stronger in the room, stirring his memories again. But this was Laurel's house; he could hardly insist he put it out. 'So what is it? Lung cancer?' he asked, pushing up to his feet and staggering to a chair in front of the desk

'Yep...advanced. Ain't a thing anyone can do about it.' Sheppard just nodded, the older man fixing him with a hard stare. 'So what's the story with that...thing out there?'

'You don't have the clearance required for that explanation,' Sheppard huffed, wincing as he moved his arms and the restraints bit in deeper. 'Suffice to say, you should be real nice to her.'

'She saw into my mind. What she said...it was true.'

Sheppard averted his gaze now. This was really not a conversation he either wanted or needed to be part of right now. Just being in the room and remaining civil was taxing his patience – he didn't need to hear the gory details of Laurel's intentions towards his boyhood self.

'But I never tried it again...not on anyone. Almost getting caught in the act was too much of a risk for a man in my position. I couldn't take that chance again. I changed my ways after that day.'

Now Sheppard's eyes snapped back onto him, his sense of indignation fired by the old man's confession. 'So you stopped because you were scared of losing your status, not because you realised what you did to me was wrong?'

Laurel held his gaze without wavering. 'God made me this way. I don't have a choice.'

'I doubt God had anything to do with making you,' Sheppard muttered, staring back out of the window again...the window he now realised was slightly open, letting in a refreshing breeze that blew the smoke away from him a little. 'You got some scissors there, Laurel?'

'Sure,' Laurel pulled out a small set of paper scissors as Sheppard swayed his way over to the desk. There was no way they were going to cut through the plastic zip tie.

'I was thinking of something a little bigger.'

Laurel set his cigarette down in the ashtray next to him and bent down to his bottom drawer, pulling out a decent sized penknife. 'This do you?'

'Thought your knives were in the kitchen,' Sheppard grunted, extending his arms toward the man.

'I said that to get rid of her long enough to get to my gun.' The old man stood and pushed the blade in between his hands and the plastic strips, making Sheppard wince as it scraped against his raw flesh. 'You know, I've been meaning to write to you, John.'

Laurel's free hand caught hold of his ravaged wrist, leaving Sheppard battling the urge to shake him off. 'Really? Well, if I'm honest, I'm glad you didn't bother.'

Laurel still hadn't cut the tie. Was he really going to use that as leverage to unburden himself here...now...?

'I'm sorry if what I did impacted on your life, John. I know you and your daddy...well, things aren't good between the two of you. I've written a letter to Patrick...It's with my solicitors. It'll be sent to him when I die and it explains everything. Perhaps it'll bring some resolution to your relationship.'

'After you die, huh? That's real big of you.'

'You've got to understand...if this ever got out –'

'Save your breath, Laurel. If you're looking for forgiveness, you're barking up the wrong tree. I'm not here to salve your conscience before you go meet your maker. Now cut the damn ties already!'

Though he barely had the strength, Laurel did as he asked, letting go of his wrist and forcing up through the plastic tie with an effort that left him breathless again. The restraints had stuck to the blood on his shredded skin, but they shook loose as Sheppard backed up and headed for the window. 'Now I suggest you stay put and talk real nice to the crazy lady when she gets back here. If you don't upset her, she'll come after me and you might get to live long enough to at least finish that packet of cancer sticks you're so fond of.'

'You're not gonna just leave me here with her?' Laurel called after him.

'No, he's not.'

Just as he'd forced up the sash widow he felt the sudden pressure of a handless arm wrap around his chest and a blade press to his throat.

'Let's move away from the window, shall we?' Sarayah suggested.

He really didn't want to comply any more. He needed out of that room...facing Laurel on a good day would be hard enough, but having them both there was too much to handle.

'And if I don't?' he challenged.

He was seriously contemplating pushing forward onto that blade to do the job for her, but, as if sensing that, she pulled it away. 'I'll kill Laurel,' she told Sheppard. 'And don't try to kid me that you're strong enough to walk away and let that happen, even after what he did to you.'

His heart sinking, Sheppard had to admit to himself that he couldn't just walk away. Even if she'd said she would let him go, his conscience would never have allowed him to see it through. Laurel was not the man he'd once been. He was sick and helpless. Sheppard slowly turned around, finding both Sarayah and the knife she bore covered in blood.

'What the...?'

'The young lady in Mr Laurel's kitchen was a little resistant to the idea of me taking this,' she said, twitching the blade so the blood glistening in the light from the ornamental glass light fitting hanging above her. 'She took quite some persuasion.'

So Laurel had sent Sarayah to the kitchen knowing he had staff there? The open window behind him seemed awfully tempting now.

'I forgot she was there, John, I swear,' Laurel called to him. 'Sarah was putting in overtime to help me out. She's usually home by now...it slipped my mind!'

'Convenient,' Sheppard grunted, unable to hide his disgust.

'Well, I see you managed to get your restraints off anyway,' Sarayah said, her eyes drifting down to his freed wrists.

'I realised I had some scissors here,' Laurel quickly covered, holding up the tiny paper scissors and snipping the air with them.

She didn't look too convinced. 'Pity you didn't try that sooner, Mr Laurel. It could have saved that poor young woman's life.'

Sheppard glared at the older man, watching him sink into his seat. Laurel reached for his oxygen mask and took a few deep breaths.

Spotting the smouldering cigarette on his desk, Sarayah approached it, tucking the knife into the back of her belt and picking it up. 'What's this?' she asked Sheppard, holding it up for him to see.

'It's a cigarette. You put it in your mouth and suck on it.'

She frowned, eyeing it dubiously. 'Does it taste good?'

He shrugged, though he knew it never tasted good to the uninitiated. 'You should ask him. He's the expert.'

She glanced Laurel's way, but didn't ask, choosing to follow Sheppard's instructions and sample it for herself. Apparently, the inhaled smoke didn't sit too well with her, and she was soon sputtering fit to cough up a lung.

'That's disgusting, why would you bother?' she demanded of Laurel.

'It relaxes me,' he choked from behind his mask.

Sarayah stared at the glowing embers of tobacco, and a worrying smile crept onto her face. 'You knew I wouldn't enjoy that, didn't you?' she asked, strolling toward Sheppard.

He clamped his mouth shut and refused to answer for fear of incriminating himself.

'Well let's see how you like this.' She grasped his arm and stubbed out the cigarette on the damaged skin of his left wrist, making his legs buckle and bringing him to his knees again.

'You should stay down there...it suits you,' she smirked. She dragged the cigarette down the side of his face, the hot tobacco hurting but doing little lasting damage since the contact was just fleeting. He seriously hoped she didn't find out those things came in packets. That could give her hours of entertainment.

'Stop that. You're hurting him,' he heard Laurel shout, surprisingly jumping to his defence.

Sarayah rolled her eyes. 'Yes...and that would be the idea...' she drawled.

She drew on the cigarette again, this time less vigorously, pulling it back out to study it as the lit end glowed orange again, blowing the smoke in his face.

'Interesting,' she mused, popping it back in her mouth to free her hand to punch Sheppard.

He didn't know where exactly her strength came from, but she was able to floor him every time. He thudded against Laurel's polished floorboards, groaning as he felt her sit in his back to pin him to the floor and pull down the collar of his shirt.

'You really shouldn't keep trying to escape, John,' she told him, sucking on the cigarette then stubbing it into the back of his neck. He groaned, biting down on his lip to stop himself vocalising his distress any louder than that. 'Now I have to punish you...again.'

A second application, more or less in the same spot, left him crying out and trying to throw her off, with his usual lack of success.

'You're not like the John Sheppard I knew in Pegasus. He could take his punishment like a man.'

'It was my idea,' Laurel suddenly blurted out. 'I cut his restraints and told him to go get help.'

Sheppard could just about still turn his head Laurel's way, seeing something resembling genuine compassion in the old man's wizened features. Was he really trying to help him? That wasn't the impression of Laurel he'd been trying to repress in his head all these years.

Sarayah sat back on him, her interest piqued. 'What's this, Mr Laurel, an uncharacteristic display of self-sacrifice? John does seem to have that effect on people.'

'Except you!' Sheppard grunted into the floor boards, receiving another burn in return, this time on his back. 'Son-of-a-bitch!'

'Now now, John. There's no call for that language. That's another burn for you.' He heard her draw on the cigarette before applying it to his back again, this time selecting one of his worst lacerations from the Al Qaeda fiasco. But he knew better than to react, instead pressing his forehead hard against the floorboards, the discomfort from that counteracting the agony she was inflicting.

'That's much better,' she praised, shoving her makeshift weapon into her mouth and stroking his hair as he panted through the stinging. 'Much better. Now, I took the liberty of having a little look around while I was collecting the knife,' she uttered through her clenched teeth, as she leaned over him to talk. 'It's a very beautiful house you have here, Mr Laurel. Very beautiful. Very clean. Your bathroom facilities are particularly impressive. Shall we go take a look, John?'

He grumbled 'No,' into the floorboards, but she swept him up anyway, collecting Laurel on the way and depositing all three of them in a grandiose and spacious bathroom. The beige marble floor tiles brought relief to his hot face still flushed from the torture, but he was less than happy that she'd chosen to reassemble still sitting astride him.

She took her own sweet time getting off him, then stood aside and finished the cigarette as he struggled up from his prone position. 'Lovely, isn't it?' she asked Sheppard, her eyes drilling into him.

He wasn't exactly in the mood to discuss interior design, but yeah, it was a breath-taking room, no doubt paid for by a career's worth of underhand dealings. The shower stall alone was half the size of his bathroom at home, and a leather sofa adorned one corner well away from the wash facilities. Who had a sofa in their bathroom?

'Now just stay here both of you,' Sarayah ordered, prodding Sheppard's chest as she said it.

She swirled away, but returned only seconds later with the backpack she'd been carting across the world. She immediately pulled out a roll of duct tape, pulling a length of it out with her teeth, then pushing Laurel over to the sofa to tape his wrists and ankles together. 'You just sit back and enjoy,' she told him, patting him on the head like a well behaved dog.

'Now we can get properly cleaned up,' she drawled, pushing Sheppard back a pace with her hand as she leaned into the substantial shower unit and turned the water on. She stood back herself now, arms folded and expression expectant. 'Well...get in then.'

He looked at the shower, now building up a good steam, then at her, then at Laurel looking pale and exhausted on the sofa. 'I...don't think so.'

Apparently tired of doing battle over everything, Sarayah simply broke apart and swept him along with her, dumping him fully dressed in the main shower flow before exiting herself.

As the water soaked through to his skin, flattening his hair and stinging his eyes, she peered in at him through the increasingly foggy curved glass screen surrounding him. 'I'd take those boots off if I were you, John. The water will ruin them if you don't.'

Murmuring several expletives under his breath, he began to untie them, slinging them out around the glass to land with a thud at her feet.

'And now the top...it's filthy after all the fighting, and blood leaves such terrible stains. Let's get you into something smarter.'

He glared at her, feeling like a circus spectacle as she and the old man with the malfunctioning lungs watched on. At least Laurel had the decency to look away. He could tell the old man had twisted around to face the wall on the opposite side of the room.

Sarayah rummaged in the backpack, pulling out a fresh, white T-shirt. 'Come on, John. Just think how good it's going to feel to get into these clean clothes.'

He fumed silently at her through the steam, not budging.

'I could help,' she offered.

'You just stay right where you are.'

Of course, she didn't listen, materialising in there with him, her hand reaching out toward him as he backed himself up to the cold tile wall behind him. But instead of pulling at his clothing, she let her hand slip right into his torso, her fingers gripping something that might well have been his large intestines the way she made them squirm around inside him. His breath caught, his body instantly chilling at the invasive touch despite the torrent of hot water and the warm tingle in the region of her contact.

'Is that enough motivation or should I dig a little deeper?' she challenged, the glint in her eye telling him she meant business. Oh, Sarayah was back in command, all right. And if anything, she was stronger now than she had been before. In dragging the murky events that had moulded her persona into the light, he'd clearly created a monster far worse than that he'd already faced.

'Stop...Please!' he croaked, tears streaking down his face as he held his screams in.

'Well, since you have such impeccable manners...'

She pulled her hand out and caught him as he stumbled, pushing him back against the wall again. 'Now be a good boy and Sarayah will be kind to you. You remember the deal, don't you?'

Oh God...they were back to that. It felt like his breakthrough, and the punishment he'd taken to get it, had all been for nothing. Now the tears merging with the shower water were tears of frustration. How much more of this would he have to take before he was free of this woman? Admitting defeat, he began dragging at the cloying fabric of his fleece, now practically glued to his skin, tugging and wrenching until it pulled free and he threw it to the floor of the shower stall in disgust. It made a satisfyingly loud splat as it hit her feet, eloquently saying what he didn't dare put into words.

Sarayah flashed him an angry look, then picked the item up and threw it out and onto the bathroom floor.

Outside the stall, Sheppard heard Laurel's disturbed cry. 'For God's sake woman. Let the man wash in peace.'

'Jealous you're not in here, too?' she quipped, her eyes never leaving Sheppard's as he watched her warily from his place against the back wall. 'There's room for all three of us.'

'Don't be so sick!' Laurel spat back.

Sarayah laughed out loud at that, but her eyes remained devoid of humour. 'Coming from you that's particularly insulting,' she told him. 'What's the matter, Mr Laurel? Is John too old for you now? What if I could travel back in time to take you back to when he was a boy? Would you feel so reluctant then if I ensure you won't be disturbed?'

For a moment, Sheppard stood frozen rigid with fear. She'd travelled back in time once to get to him here and prevent him from travelling to Atlantis, but he'd hoped the fact they'd come to Laurel's home in the present day meant she couldn't do it again. Had he been wrong...could she actually see that threat through?

The pause that followed before Laurel responded did little to alleviate his fears. 'Don't be ridiculous. That's not possible,' the man croaked.

'Meaning you'd agree to it if it was?' Sheppard yelled back, his anger making him forget his promise to do as he was told.

Sarayah pressed a finger to his lips. 'Hush, John. Don't be scared...do I seem the type to allow harm to come to a child?' And the image of her dead baby flashed into his mind as she said it.

He didn't want to betray his fear to her, but his body let him down, trembling uncontrollably at the thought of Laurel having a second shot at him that she could manipulate in his favour.

She leaned against him now, standing on tiptoe to whisper in her ear, 'Take off the rest of those clothes and I'll give you my word it won't happen.'

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back away from her, the only part of him free from contact. She was feeding more images to him now...they'd shared a shower once before and she wanted to repeat the experience because it hadn't ended how she'd wanted it to. They'd had someone watching them, someone who wouldn't have allowed it to go too far. They had no such chaperone this time, just a sick old man who could only sit and listen while catching glimpses of activity through the steamed up shower panels. The overwhelming sense of her desire to conquer him shook him to the core, and she knew it. He could see it in her face when he finally looked at her and said, 'You go back outside and I'll take them off.'

She hesitated, and he half-expected the pain to kick in as she worked her persuasive methods on him again, but to his surprise she carried out his request, disappearing from view.

He waited a second, hardly daring to believe she'd granted him his privacy, then dragged off most of his clothes and threw them out into the bathroom. The final garment, his underwear, remained in place. She would part him from those over his dead body...quite literally.

The water hitting his chafed wrists and fresh burns set them stinging, but it still felt good. He'd been chilled through to the bone when they'd taken their impromptu trip to Greenland, and he hadn't managed to get properly warm since...if you didn't count the cigarette burns.

A hand suddenly appeared right through the glass, bearing the shower gel he'd left in his bathroom at home. He flinched, the sight so unnatural he could help but jump away from it.

'Use this,' he heard Sarayah's muffled voice say through the glass. 'I like the way it smells.'

His heart began hammering at a new and frighteningly rapid rate. Why did she need him to smell good? Why did she want him clean at all? He suddenly felt very sick.

When he didn't take the bottle from her, the rest of Sarayah followed through the glass. 'Is there a problem, John?'

'Why are you doing this?' he demanded.

Her eyes drifted down his body while he self-consciously covered certain areas his boxers were clinging a little too tightly to. 'You didn't take off all your clothes, John.'

'Answer the damn question!' he yelled, completely losing his cool.

She arched an eyebrow, her bemusement plain to see. 'Use your imagination. You know why if you think about it. Now get clean.'

He still refused to take the shower gel. He would play no part in making this experience fit into her grubby little fantasies. 'Go to hell!'

He witnessed the shudder pass through her, saw her form become almost transparent as if she were departing, before becoming solid again.

'Stop saying that!' she screeched. But her order just inflamed his sense of rebellion. If she was going to insist on this, he was going down fighting.

'What. Go to hell?' Same reaction, a shudder followed by semi- translucence. It looked hard work for her to stay with him, but she soon became solid again.

'All right, John. It's your choice. I'm more than happy to do this the hard way.'

She disappeared.

Sheppard tried to bolt, but she was only just outside the shower stall and knocked him straight back in there as he tried to depart. Cracking his head on the back wall left him stunned, but not so much that he didn't feel the warm tingle of her energy form and the bite of the zip ties being manipulated into place when she rolled him and bound his wrists behind his back. Crap! So much for going down fighting.

Then she crammed something into his mouth, stopping the only form of retaliation he had left as he gagged on the face cloth and she tied it in place to keep it there with yet another tie. It scratched at the corners of his mouth, not that it stopped him screaming his protests anyway.

She flipped him over and dragged him up one-handed, another display of that indomitable strength he'd come to loathe so much, then slammed him up against the back wall again, leaving stars dancing in his vision. Then she picked up the shower gel and squeezed it out onto him, taking great pleasure in his squirms and muffled complaints as she soaped him up and scrubbed him clean.

Images sparked in his mind; a little wooden room, cold, cold water, this same proximity, a painful scrubbing and an underlying sense of fear that she wouldn't stop at getting him clean. But that other presence, the one dowsing them both in water, had ensured his safety. Alishia...a good woman, one who had taken over the running of Medulsa. Sarayah hated her...hated the fact she had got in their way.

This time the process was different, the washing less violent, but no less invasive. He felt light headed, the flow of water over his face and the face cloth filling his mouth making it hard to get enough oxygen. She spun him and pushed him against the wall, soapy hands sliding over his back, washing his injuries and making them throb afresh. But the touches were disturbingly delicate, her contact more like a lover's caresses than a torturer's punishment. Her feelings began to invade his thoughts, her desire so real he struggled to separate it from his own emotions. Whether it was the lack of air, or the gentleness of this cleansing after so much pain he didn't know, but his body began to respond and the fight left him. He leaned into the wall, his forehead pressed against the cool tiles, and stopped trying to shake her off. The strokes of her fingertips changed to soft kisses, working their way up his spine as far as she could reach. Her right arm encircled him, clutching him against her body, the increase in surface contact feeding the feverish build of their combined emotions. He felt fear, anger, repulsion and craving mount in equal proportions, finding it impossible to disentangle his own mind from hers. He'd been so certain he didn't want this, now...he wasn't so sure.

She turned him back toward her, pulling the knife from the back of her belt and cutting away the zip tie around his face. It dug into the corners of his mouth as she severed it, cutting his skin, but as the face cloth fell away she gently licked away the blood, leaving him weak at the knees and desperate for more. She smothered his mouth, crushing herself against him as the water coursed over them. He was losing control...losing himself...she was winning...she was beating him...

Then, as suddenly as those feeling had risen, they were snatched away. She stepped back, breaking the contact and severing the link, leaving him feeling used and violated and vulnerably exposed in front of her.

'Someone needs a shave,' she told him. 'Out now.'

She caught hold of his arm and threw him out onto the tiled floor, his knees crunching down on the marble with a sickening thud. But he was numb to the pain, still horrified by the control she'd exerted over him. She really could take him any time.

'Where are your razors, Laurel?' she demanded, stepping past Sheppard and barely acknowledging his distress.

'My razors?'

Sheppard raised his eyes to Laurel's, something in his expression clearly touching the old man.

'You are a sick creature, young lady,' he rasped, seemingly struggling for breath. 'I won't do a thing to help you harass this man any further.'

'I'm not harassing him, I'm preparing him. The harassment comes later,' she retorted, giving him a backhand before searching for them herself.

She rifled through various cupboards, sending the discarded and unwanted contents spilling onto the floor in a tirade of shattering glass and overwhelming scents. But she did find something in there she liked the look of.

She pulled out a box filled with six tiny bottles, medicinal in appearance. 'This is something for your illness, yes?' she asked, holding the carton up in front of Laurel.

'I'm not telling you anything,' he growled.

Without compunction, she backhanded him again, snapping his head to the side and drawing a trickle of blood. 'Tell me what it is.'

Laurel looked at Sheppard again, clearly in pain and now even more out of breath.

'It's morphine,' Sheppard told her, answering for him and taking away the weight of responsibility the man obviously felt. 'It deadens the pain of his illness. And he shaves with that.' He dipped his head to the electric razor she'd failed to recognise and had tossed aside near her feet.

She set down the medication and picked up the electric shaver, examining it. She eventually figured out how to switch it on, then squatted before him applying it to his face and neck with intense concentration. He kept his eyes averted from her the whole time, embarrassment at their earlier clinch burning hot and fresh in his memory. He could still feel her touches, the effect of them now very different and setting his skin crawling.

After five minutes of studious application, Sarayah sat back and admired her work. 'Not bad.' She leaned in a planted a kiss on Sheppard's cheek. 'Not bad at all. I think I'll keep this, Mr Laurel.' She stood up, opening the box of morphine she'd set down to use the shaver. 'Oh, and I'll be borrowing one of these too.' She pulled out a vial of morphine and a fresh syringe and held them out to the older man. 'Fill this with enough to make him compliant, but not to knock him out.'

'I told you, I'm having nothing to do with –'

She struck him again, then shoved the offending hand, still bearing the syringe and vial right into his face.

This time he took them from her with trembling hands, his breath rasping loudly as he tried to quell his panic. 'I'm sorry, John.'

Sheppard didn't say anything, just hoped he got the measure wrong and managed to leave him unconscious. When it was done, Sarayah took them from him and set it down on the sink. Then she cut away the restraints from Sheppard's wrists, smirking with pleasure at the obvious pain the act caused him. 'Get dressed,' she ordered, pointing to the fresh clothes she'd set out on a chair for him while he'd first been in the shower.

Glad for the opportunity to cover up against her prying eyes, he quickly snatched them up, heading to a towel bale and drying off, shielding himself from view while removing his sopping underwear and sliding into the fresh dry ones. Though his situation remained dire, at some level being clean and dry for the first time in days did give him a boost.

'Now, through to the other room, boys. I'd prefer a little privacy while I get ready.' Sarayah swept them all into the next room, a magnificent bedroom with a huge, luxurious bed. Everywhere was adorned with fine mahogany furniture of elaborate design; wardrobes, bureaus, nightstands, Queen Anne style chairs upholstered in gold velvet, and the bed itself, swathed in gold fabric, its sweeping headboard gilded with gold leaf and with four barley twist posts at each corner reaching up to almost touch the ceiling.

Setting two of the chairs back to back, she forced the men down on one each and, collecting a rope from the pack in the bathroom, used her energies to tie them both together.

She rounded them, standing in front of Sheppard to gloat some more. 'You look a little anxious, John. Don't worry, I'll be ready to join you soon.'

'Great...can't wait,' he muttered into his chest, refusing to look at her.

She caught his chin and lifted his head to face her. 'You seem on edge...I know just what you need.'

She disappeared, back moments later with Laurel's bottle of expensive whiskey in her hand. 'This should put some fire in your belly.'

She unscrewed the lid with her teeth, taking a slug herself before trying to press the bottle to his lips. 'Come on, John. Open up those pretty lips and partake in a little courage booster.'

He kept his lips firmly pressed together, knowing if he even tried to answer she would take advantage of the opportunity to pour the liquid in. She already planned to drug him; he didn't need alcohol sloshing around in his system along with it.

'No?' She tilted her head, her eyes glinting with cruelty. She knelt before him, setting the bottle down, and with no warning she plunged her dissolving hand right through him, through both chairs, and out the other side into Laurel's ailing body. 'Mr Laurel would really like you to take a drink, John, wouldn't you, Mr Laurel?'

A strangled scream was Laurel's only response.

'All right!' Sheppard seethed, the uncomfortable heat in his own stomach making him squirm. 'I'll take the damn drink if it's so important to you!'

She snapped her hand back and grabbed up the bottle, sitting in his lap and drizzling the liquid into his mouth too quickly for him to cope with. Though he drank it down, certain he could use the courage she thought it would bring with it, the constant pouring caused it to over flow and run down his neck, making his skin and shirt wet and dirty again. Eventually he choked on the fierce liquid, the amount he'd swallowed already burning a trail all the way down to his stomach. He was going to regret that in the morning, but then he reconsidered that thought. If he made it to the next sunrise, a hangover was likely to be the least of his regrets.

Sarayah set to licking the excess whiskey from his neck in the unsettlingly gentle way she sometimes touched him, and he did battle with his body's natural responses, absolutely forbidding himself to get aroused by her again. To make sure he didn't, he imagined it was Mrs Watson his 6th grade teacher sitting on him, knowing no matter what little mind trick Sarayah pulled on him, as long as he kept that dried up old hag's image in mind he'd most likely hold any unwanted responses at bay.

Apparently satisfied that he'd drunk enough, Sarayah took another swig herself before climbing off him, leaving his clothes stuck to him with a mixture of water from her body and alcohol. 'Enjoy your moment of rest. You're going to need plenty of energy for later.' She looked back over her shoulder at the satin-draped bed, then back at him with a lascivious grin, just in case he'd missed the insinuation.

He wanted to yell, 'Go to hell!' again, but his mouth still hurt from the last time she'd stopped him saying that, rubbed raw at the corners and stinging from his top up of courage. That didn't stop him from thinking it.

For a second she looked unstable, but she shook it off, using the fluctuation to step forward, leaving the water that had just been soaking her to fall in a puddle on the highly polished wooden floorboards behind her. That was new. He had a horrible feeling she was getting a lot better at all this stuff with practice. She tossed the bottle aside now and leaned over him, bringing her face in close and wrapping her handless arm around the back of his neck, stroking her fingers back through his hair. He jerked his head away as best he could, but her other arm pretty much fixed him in place.

'What's wrong, John? You wanted this, remember?'

Yeah he remembered saying that. Just his luck that one had come back to bite him on the ass.

He glared back at her, watching her expression crumple into mock indignation. 'Unless you were lying to me. Were you lying to me, pretty one?'

Her insistence on using those words drove home her intentions for him. He'd seen what those men had done to her, and at some level she equated their act with his own future impact on her life. He didn't answer...he didn't need to, she already knew it had been a trick.

'Well, I'm going to head back into that bathroom and get ready for our evening together. Oh, and you'd better please me, John, because if you don't I'm going to kill you...and there are myriad long and painful ways I can think of to do that. I'll have fun whichever option you choose, but I guarantee only one of them has any chance of providing you with pleasure.'

'That'd be death, right?' he quipped.

Her gaze turned hard. Her hand slipped down to his jaw and her fingers sank through the flesh, pulling open his mouth until she could force her tongue halfway down his throat in a reaching kiss. It was as agonising as it was invasive, and all he could do was sit there until it was over. She sucked long and hard on his tongue until it hurt, then eventually pulled back with a satisfied smile. 'That's right...if you're lucky. Now don't you go anywhere, will you?'

She evaporated back to the bathroom, the door still ajar from their earlier passage through it. Sheppard couldn't see anything because his back was to it, but he could hear her, humming happily as she preened.

He was about to be eaten for breakfast, quite possibly literally, and she was singing some kind of Medulsan ditty, leaving him tied up with a terminally ill paedophile he'd spent most of his life wanting to beat the crap out of. This was beginning to rank up there in the top ten worst days of his life...someone up there really had it in for him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well...I said it before, but I think it bears saying again. Uh, oh! I hope you enjoyed the update. More tomorrow! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26 **

'So are we sure this is going to work?' Carson had just spent the last five minutes looking over the portable buffer Carter and McKay had been building, but wasn't exactly convinced by their reassurances. It was no bigger than a four slice toaster. It was hard to imagine it could store a whole person.

'Well, we can't be absolutely sure without testing it first, but –' Carter began.

'All our simulations showed it working perfectly,' snapped McKay, annoyed that this "witch doctor", as he'd called him, dared to question something so far beyond his understanding.

'As Dr McKay says, it's worked perfectly in simulations, but we can't be one hundred percent sure without the ability to run a live test. '

'Oh wait,' Rodney sneered. 'I'll call Sarayah up and ask if she minds popping in and helping us. Oh, wait, she's trying to evade capture...that could be a problem.'

'All I'm saying is it's a big risk sending some poor bugger out there to face a violent and otherwise unstoppable psychopath if we're not sure it'll even do what it's meant to do,' the Scot finished, then added, 'No offence,' as an afterthought.

'None taken, I'm sure,' Colonel O'Neill replied, rocking back on his heels, hands plunged deep in his pockets. He looked a lot more relaxed about the whole idea than Carson would have felt, but he supposed experience of handling difficult and dangerous situations came with the rank.

'I understand your concerns, but all we can do now is run one final set of diagnostics on the actual device to ensure everything is still working within expected parameters and hope it performs in accordance with the simulations,' Carter told him. 'I know it doesn't look much, Dr Beckett, but this is a very powerful containment device, and when the body is in energy form it can be compressed into a fraction of the space it normally occupies. There's more than enough room in there for everyone in this room. If it works, it will definitely hold her.'

Carson looked around at the seven people along with him finding that quite difficult to imagine. With the exception of Dr Fraiser, they were all decent sized people. The very idea of it left him feeling distinctly claustrophobic. 'I'll take your word for it, lass,' he muttered, giving it another sideways look.

'So you understand what to do, Colonel?' Carter clarified making sure the colonel's attention was fully focused on her before continuing. 'The device needs to be within a range of approximately twenty yards to ensure it works, closer if possible. Any greater distance than that and we can't guarantee it will have the power to contain her should she choose to leave.'

'Understood,' the colonel nodded, sombre now they were getting down to the nitty-gritty details.

'We've gone over footage of her previous movements and figure you have a window of no more than two seconds as her body breaks apart before she's on the move and we've lost her. Of course, we can always give it another shot, but the sooner she's contained, the better it will be for Major Sheppard...if he's still with her.'

Carson took those words to be a gentler way of suggestion the major might no longer be alive. Ice shivered all the way down his spine at that thought. He instinctively felt sorry for the poor bugger.

'We'll provide you with a disguise that should help you to blend in with other people around the location she's in when we commence the operation.'

'Cool, and how many Afghan men carry naquadah-powered storage devices exactly?'

'Well, we can conceal it in some kind of bag,' Carter replied. 'It's not exactly huge. So we'll locate her, head to the location in the Prometheus, transport down, assess the situation, then figure out how to get the device close enough without it being discovered.'

'Sounds like a cake-walk,' he quipped. 'So, then all I have to do is think happy thoughts and hit the remote activation button when she starts to disappear.'

'That's right, Sir...as long as your "happy thoughts" involve making her disappear.'

'Nothing would make me happier,' he assured Carter.

'You make this all sound so easy...but how are we going to deal with this problem if we catch her?' Carson asked.

'"When" we catch her,' McKay corrected. 'And that's where you come in. Major Carter and I will scan the contents of the device and analyse them, and once we know what we have, you can help us to return her genetics to normal.'

'Oh, no pressure then!' Carson said, swallowing down his nerves. They said that so matter-of-fact he got the impression they were used to dealing with this kind of problem on a regular basis. He, however, wasn't, and the whole idea sounded incredibly daunting, if not downright impossible.

'Well, we should probably do the last of the fine tuning on this and get it ready to head out tomorrow,' Carter said, gesturing to McKay to join her.

'Tinker away, blondie. I already know this thing works like a charm,' he smirked, following her back to her workstation where she'd carried the contraption.

'I hope those two know what they're doing,' Carson sighed, finding it hard to believe in the kind of science they apparently worked with on a daily basis.

'You hope!' O'Neill quipped. 'It's my ass on the line if they don't.' He sat down, swinging his seat from side to side. 'Don't worry about it, Dr Beckett. What these two don't know about Stargates isn't worth knowing.'

'Of course, this is an experimental Stargate and most of what they've based their plan on is conjecture,' Daniel pointed out, frowning with concern himself now.

'Sometimes it's best to keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself, Daniel,' O'Neill griped, glaring over at him.

'Indeed,' Teal'c agreed. 'Now is not the time to focus on such things. 'Now is the time to prepare for the battle ahead, no matter how unlikely victory seems.'

O'Neill shifted his glare to the big man now. 'Yeah, thanks, Teal'c. That was a big help.'

Teal'c just dipped his head at the colonel and looked on impassively.

'Well, rather you than me, Colonel,' Carson confessed. 'I'm afraid I'd be far too scared to do anything of use in this kind of operation.'

'It's just facing imminent death...again,' the colonel shrugged, giving him a short, sharp smile. 'You get used to it.'

'I very much doubt I would,' Carson sighed, sitting down beside him. 'You're a far braver man than I.'

'Some call it brave, some call it stupid,' O'Neill mused, gazing at the ceiling philosophically. 'I kinda lean toward the latter.'

That finally brought a smile to all of the tense faces around them, the general asking for an update as soon as they knew everything was definitely operational as he left the room.

Janet made her excuses too. With patients to see before lights out, she had to get on and leave them to their work.

Feeling rather redundant, Carson picked up the file Major Carter had given him earlier and began to read. If he was going to return this monster to her former human self, it might just be worth knowing a little more about what he was dealing with. Maybe what lay between the covers of that file would make him feel less guilty if he failed to pull it off.

oooOOOooo

Sarayah felt the calmest she had in a long time as she showered away the grime of her latest kill. Despite the many slaughters she'd carried out, she despised the stickiness of blood on her skin...although she could tolerate it for a while if the victim was worth it.

Her happiness didn't come from the anticipation of the physical combining she planned with Sheppard, it was much more than that. He had opened up a wound that ran deeply through her core, picked at it until it gaped wide and raw again, and the anger she felt at him for that had brought with it a new level of strength and clarity of thought. Now, she knew killing him was the only solution. At last, he had committed enough atrocities against her to make her see the light and overrule her all-consuming addiction to him, and his admission that he would kill her if she didn't strike him down first had strengthened her resolve to end his existence. It would be hard, and the thought of never again seeing his suffering left her cold, but she had to be rational, and this was the logical course of action.

So, tonight she planned to gain pleasure from his humiliation, then, after that, inflict a slow and painful death, which would probably prove even more stimulating. She had never found satisfaction from anything other than the suffering of men, even her seduction of the drugged men of Medulsa doing little to fulfil her needs since they could recall nothing of her assaults the next day.

She reached for the bottle of shower gel she'd brought with her from Sheppard's house, the one from the bathroom cabinet with the more feminine items held within it. This was Nancy's aroma, an additional insult she would unleash on Sheppard's senses as she lavished her unwanted attentions on him. And set out waiting for her once she was done showering was an ivory-coloured silk negligee and a bottle of perfume, the same scent Nancy had been wearing the day she'd killed her...if she'd killed her. Right now she had no idea whether she had or not, but as long as Sheppard still believed his wife was dead, that was all that really mattered.

Lost in thought, she recalled the anger she'd felt at realising Sheppard had influenced her travel and taken them to the warehouse when she had planned to return them to Afghanistan. That, too, had helped her form her decision to kill him. If Nancy was alive, so be it. Sheppard would never set eyes on her again either way. He was dangerous to her, and if her experience with him in the bathroom before she'd gagged him was anything to go by, he was gaining more ability to control her by the moment. He had to be suppressed. Much as it pained her to admit it, he had to go.

But not before he'd paid the price for his transgressions.

His atonement was finally at hand.

oooOOOooo

'What the hell did you do to that woman?' Laurel asked once they were sure she was in the shower unit and unable to hear them.

Sheppard lifted his sagging head, his vision now decidedly blurred. 'Of course, you would think I'd done something to encourage this. I led you on after all.'

An uncomfortable few seconds of silence ensued. Laurel eventually broke it. 'I've said I'm sorry about that, John. And I meant it.'

Sheppard felt his lopsided smile slip onto his face. 'Sure you did.'

'Are you all right?'

Sheppard frowned at the absurdity of the question. 'Well, surprisingly this isn't one of my better days...'

'Well, it's about to improve. I have the penknife in my pocket. If I turn to my right a little you may be able to reach it and get yourself free.'

He couldn't help but huff out a laugh, his brain conjuring up images he'd have preferred it not to. 'Ah, the old "There's a knife in my pocket" routine.'

'Sober up, John!' Laurel snapped. 'If you just sit there that woman is going to defile you and kill you, and I know you don't want that.' He paused, as if waiting for a response, sighing when he didn't get one. 'Look, I know this isn't easy, but you have to trust me. I have the knife and if you work quickly enough, you should be able to free yourself.'

Though he felt like saying 'What's the point?' Sheppard wasn't the type to give up easily. He had no intention of spending the evening drugged up and getting jiggy with the crazy harpy in the bathroom, so anything that might rile her enough to kick his ass instead had to be worth a try.

He felt Laurel twist himself around and so strained his arms behind him in the direction of his right pocket. The old man contorted himself into what had to be a hideously uncomfortable position and held steady while Sheppard groped his way along the guy's leg and up to his pocket. Sure enough he felt something solid and penknife sized concealed there, so, praying he didn't drop the thing, he managed to manoeuvre it out and flick it open. All he had to do was cut through one piece of the rope and the whole thing would fall away..._should _fall away_**.**_

'When you get out, my car's in the garage. The keys are in the top drawer of the desk down in my office. It's fast; you should be able to get a fair distance before she realises you're gone.'

'Yeah, well, unless it can attain near light speed, I doubt it's gonna help,' Sheppard pointed out, rubbing the knife vigorously back and forth across the rope. He could feel fibres splitting. He might actually manage this before Sarayah was done.

'If she doesn't know my car or where you've gone, that has to give you a good chance of getting away, doesn't it?' Laurel continued, showing his total lack of grasp of the situation.

'She works on different instincts to you and me, Laurel. She can sense me, she doesn't have to be able to see me.'

'My God...so how will you get away?'

The rope gave a satisfying twang and he felt it loosen, wriggling free of it. He jumped out of his chair, swayed at the affects of the too sudden change of position, then stumbled around to hand Laurel the knife and show him his restraints. 'I'm still working on that part of the plan.'

It took some considerable force to slit the zip tie, force that drove the plastic deeper into his wounds and made him bite on his lip so as not to cry out and alert Sarayah to their activities. It gave way eventually, and Sheppard quickly started to help Laurel out of the slack ropes.

'What are you doing? Get the hell out of here, boy.'

'And leave you here to martyr yourself for me? I don't think so.'

'I'm already dying, John. What can she possible do that's worse than that?'

Sheppard stopped in his frenetic attempts to disentangle him and fixed him with an earnest look. 'I don't even wanna think about the possibilities if that's okay with you.' Then inspiration struck. 'You know what? You're right, I should leave you right here,' he said, pulling the ropes back and tucking them in so they still looked tight around him.

'Actually, if you want to be the hero, I wouldn't say no,' Laurel countered, not so sure of his convictions after what Sheppard had said. 'I'm not afraid to die, but I was planning on a peaceful passage.'

'I'm not really leaving you,' Sheppard assured him, stalking around the room now, looking for something heavy. 'I just need you to create a diversion long enough for me to hit her with something.'

'And what good will that do?'

'If I knock her out I may be able to kill her.'

Laurel blinked back at him, letting that theory sink in. Sheppard set about searching again staggering from one piece of furniture to another looking for something heavy enough to do the job. He didn't have time to consider the morality of what he was doing. Killing her was the only way to prevent more deaths. Whether she was valuable to the SGC or not, he had to stop her.

'You sure you can make the shot...you don't look too steady there,' Laurel asked, his voice quavering with doubt.

Sheppard didn't have time to answer, just kept on searching.

'I'm just saying...because if you don't get it right, you're only gonna make her madder. Maybe we should just run.'

'I can do this!' Sheppard snapped, straightening up, then stumbling back a step to steady himself. 'All my life I've had to put up with people telling me I'm a failure in one way or another, well not this time. I'm gonna do this right.' He stopped ranting, swiping his hair back from his forehead, as he tried to recall what he'd been doing before he started ranting at Laurel.

'Under the bed...I keep a golf club there for protection.' The way he said it told Sheppard he'd realised he'd momentarily lost track of things, but he didn't mention it.

Sheppard dived over to the bed, looking under it and finding the club just as Laurel had told him he would.

'Nice,' he whispered to himself. 'I haven't had much chance to practice my swing lately.'

It was a wood, nice and heavy, all he had to do was time it right. Sarayah only needed a split second of warning and this would all have been for nothing.

In the bathroom, the water stopped running. Sheppard's stomach did a queasy flip, realising his time was almost up for getting in position.

He trod lightly, silently praying that the polished floorboards of Laurel's bedroom weren't as creaky as they looked like they might be. Thankfully, whatever craftsman had laid them had been worth every dime; not one of them moved enough to make a noise.

He positioned himself to the left of the door, behind where it swung open, hoping it would shield him for those vital few seconds he needed to position himself for the shot. He raised the club, the shift in its weight leaving him unsteady until he readjusted his stance to compensate. Jeez, he was way too drunk to do this, but what choice did he have? There was no way Laurel had the strength to knock her out.

In the bathroom, Sarayah continued to hum as if she didn't have a care in the world. He heard her spraying something, the scent carrying on the steamy air coming out of the door telling him it was Nancy's perfume. It was hard to keep a clear head with that aroma playing havoc with his senses, the thought of it adorning that vile creature's form driving him almost mad with rage and longing.

_Stay focused, John, _he warned himself, adjusting his grip on the club's handle. His palms were slick with sweat, but the leather grip made it easier to keep a hold on it. _One chance_, he reminded himself. _You'll only get one chance_. _Do not screw this up!_

He felt a breeze through the door, a sign she'd transported, but a moment later a second breeze signalled her reassembling in there and then, after he listened to the sound of her pulling on something to wear she was coming through the door, dressed in one of Nancy's silky negligees and dry as a bone, knife in hand. Adrenalin kicked in, clearing the alcohol induced fog for just a short time...

'I hope you appreciate all the effort I'm –'

She stopped, noticing his absence, and Laurel quickly covered. 'He had a knife...must've picked it up in my office... he headed downstairs, but it was only a couple of min –'

Cracckkk!

Sarayah dropped like a dead weight, out cold. It took a second for that fact to register as Sheppard looked down on her body, then he leapt into action, suddenly deciding what he needed was the knife. It was still clutched loosely in her hand and he snatched at it, her grip suddenly tightening on it, her head lifting to look at him. He hadn't expected that; he'd thought he'd have a few minutes at least before she came round, but she was getting stronger all the time.

'Naughty boy, John,' she hissed, though she was clearly struggling to focus on him. 'Now I'll have to make your punishment endlessly more horrific.'

With that the knife disappeared and she laughed in his face...until he punched her unconscious again. At least she'd been stunned enough not to pull her disappearing act herself before he could hit her.

'The knife you gave me,' he barked at Laurel. 'Can you see it?'

Laurel was busy shrugging off the loosened ropes. 'No, I thought you had it.'

He couldn't see it...but it had to be in there somewhere. He'd had it until he grabbed the golf club...hadn't he? Or had he dropped it before that? Damn it! He couldn't think straight with all that whiskey worming through his veins.

Sarayah groaned.

Sheppard froze. She was waking up again? That had only been a few seconds. It suddenly occurred to him that her physiology might not behave in the same way since she'd been altered by a Stargate. She was certainly stronger...maybe she was more resilient to physical injury, too. What if she could repair quicker? She could reform herself without the water that had soaked her while she showered. What if she could return to whatever form she chose and rid herself of injury that quickly too? What if nothing he did could stop her?

'John! She's moving!' Laurel told him, snapping him back to his senses.

Laurel...he might not be able to get away from her himself, but there might be something he could do to save Laurel's life.

And then he thought of a solution. The morphine. The box was sitting on the floor in the bathroom where Sarayah had dropped it, bigger and easier to find than the penknife. The only way they'd been able to slow her down at the SGC was with sedatives. He could give her morphine; that might buy them time to get out of there.

Snatching up the box along with the syringe she'd set out on the sink, he stumbled through to the bedroom, dropping to his knees then fumbling a bottle of morphine from the box as Sarayah lifted her arm towards her jaw, apparently struggling to figure out why it hurt so much.

With hands trembling so violently he could barely pierce the seal, he somehow managed to fill the syringe to capacity, then just as she began to open her eyes again, he jabbed it into her arm, forcing the plunger in and unleashing the drugs into her system. She gripped his wrist and glared, but within seconds, her arm flopped to the floor, and she was once again unconscious.

Sheppard loaded the syringe a second time, still shaking as he did it.

'You already gave her enough to knock out a rhino,' Laurel told him, but Sheppard shook his head.

'It's not enough...it's not enough.' He hated the way she made him gabble like an idiot, but for all he knew the whole box might not be enough. He stuck her with the second syringe, setting the deadening liquid free in her veins. Then he repeated it a third time...and a fourth, pulling out the fifth and final bottle and beginning to drain its contents.

'John...JOHN!' Laurel's sharp call broke through his panic, bringing him back to his senses. He was losing it. He really had to hold it together.

Laurel bent down, his face showing the strain of such a simple action on his sickly body. 'She's out, John. Save that last one for me, would you?'

Sheppard looked at the vial and syringe, then at the sleeping form in front of him, his empathy for the terminally ill man winning out.

He handed them over to him and Laurel measured his dose, pushing up his sleeve and injecting it into the crook of his left arm. 'Now, just get yourself the hell out of here and I'll call the police,' the old man told him.

'No, no police,' Sheppard said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. 'And you're coming with me.'

Laurel gave him a hard stare, a frown puckering his brow. 'Why? Why would you want to help me?'

'Because like I said before, there's no way you're dying for me, and I can't guarantee she's staying down.' Sheppard got to his feet and yanked the old man back up along with him. 'Now let's get moving.'

Sheppard ran on ahead down the stairs, almost falling down when his legs failed to keep up with the speed his brain wanted him to move at. He found his way back to Laurel's office and hunted out the car keys he'd mentioned while the old man caught up with him, then he ushered Laurel out the door, again running on ahead to get the car running and bring it over to meet him, all the time expecting Sarayah to appear and thwart his plans. She didn't, not that he relaxed any as Laurel slumped into the passenger seat beside him.

'You sure you don't want me to drive?' the old man asked him.

Sheppard looked him up and down, swiftly assessing that despite his alcohol intake, he was still more "fit for purpose" than Laurel. 'Yeah, I'm sure.'

'It's just that this car's my pride and joy and –'

Sheppard floored the gas, the roar of the engine drowning out Laurel's protest. Ahead, a set of ornamental gates barred their way at the end of the sweeping driveway.

Beside him, Laurel gripped is seat as if his life depended on it. 'You need to operate the –'

Sheppard hit the gates drive at 70mph, the jolt slowing them a little, but not for long.

Laurel sat in shocked silence beside him for a moment, then asked, 'No time to open the gates, huh?'

'Send the bill to my dad,' Sheppard grunted in return.

His heart was galloping a mile a minute as they drove across town. Sheppard knew he had to lose Laurel soon because Sarayah might surface any time. Hopefully, heading into another town and then dumping him would save the man's life. He couldn't guarantee it, but it was the best he could do for him.

The street lamps got further apart as they left the city limits and headed out into open country. Though familiar with the roads, Sheppard hadn't driven them for a number of years and struggled to remember every twist and turn in the deteriorating light conditions. A couple of times he almost ran off the road, but he saved it at the last moment. Driving didn't come as naturally to him as flying did, even when he wasn't over the limit. What he wouldn't have given for a helicopter right now; he could fly one of those with his eyes closed _and _with whiskey being fed to him via an intravenous drip.

'So, you gonna tell me what that was all about yet?' Laurel asked, breaking the silence that had sat between them for several minutes.

'Need to know,' Sheppard fired back at him, concentrating on the road.

'So I should just go to the papers and tell them what I saw, let people make up their own minds?'

Sheppard shot him an angry glance. 'Blackmail? Really? Nice to see you haven't changed.'

He heard Laurel sigh, a low rattle following from his ailing lungs. 'You're absolutely right. That was low...and maybe this is none of my business, but if my life's in danger I can't help but think I deserve an explanation.'

'Trust me, you may deserve a lot of things, but an explanation isn't one of them,' Sheppard fired back at him. He realised he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were almost popping out of his skin. He slackened his hold, relaxing his aching hands so they could function better. He was having enough trouble keeping the car straight as it was.

'If you still feel that way, why are you trying to save me?'

_Because I can't deal with anyone else dying because of me, _Sheppard thought, but that wasn't what came spilling out his mouth. 'I told you already...I don't plan on giving give you a glorious death.'

Laurel paused, then said quietly. 'I will put things right after I'm gone.'

Sheppard clenched his jaw. Biting back the insults he really wanted to let loose with as he replied, 'Too little, too late, Laurel. Too late by far.'

They were nearing the next town now. Sheppard could see street lamps getting brighter as the shadowy landscape rushed past him. Just inside the outskirts, he drew the car to a halt.

'Get out.'

Laurel looked across at him. 'What? You're just leaving me here?'

Though he kind of liked the fearful look the thought of abandonment brought to Laurel's face, Sheppard set him straight. 'Trust me, if Sarayah's gonna wake up, the safest place for you to be is as far away from me as possible.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out Laurel's wallet, tossing it to him. 'Get a taxi and head into town, book a hotel room, go stay with a friend, hit a bar...a strip joint...I don't give a damn what you do, just don't go home until someone contacts you to tell you it's safe to go back. As long as I don't know where to find you, Sarayah's unlikely to waste time hunting you down when she could be beating the crap outta me instead.'

Laurel hesitated as if he was going to protest, then the slight sag of his shoulders suggested resignation to Sheppard's plan. But before climbing out, he flipped open his wallet and pulled out several twenty dollar bills, holding them out to him.

Sheppard frowned at them. 'What's that for?'

'Not an attempt to buy your forgiveness, if that's what you're thinking. There's less than half a tank of fuel in this thing. If you're gonna get to safety, you might need to refill it...a few times.'

Though it irked him to do it, Sheppard accepted the cash. 'Thanks,' he grunted, staring out of the windshield while Laurel exited the car. Then he remembered something. 'Oh, and Laurel...'

The old man bent down to look at him through the open door. 'Yeah?'

'Don't bother sending that letter to my dad. If he can't trust me without your confession, it means nothing anyway.'

Laurel sighed, then, from the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw him nod. 'All right, have it your way, John. Granting your wish is the least I can do.'

The sound of the door slamming shut heralded the end of their collusion, but Sheppard felt no relief as he drove away. Laurel was no longer the biggest horror of his life. That title went to the aberration he'd left lying on Laurel's bedroom floor. And she could still be hunting him.

A glance at the fuel gauge showed it just over a quarter full, but Laurel's choice of a Buick Riviera, meant that wouldn't last too long, not that it necessarily made any difference. Once Sarayah awoke, if she awoke, no amount of fuel would stop her reaching him again. He wished he'd given her another dose instead of taking pity on the old man. Maybe it would have been enough to finish her off. Or not. His head ached from over-thinking the situation, from regretting not spending time to look for the knife and not giving her more drugs. He had no way of knowing whether either of those things would have killed her, she was so different from a normal human being now. No, he couldn't change things, he had to run with his decision and make the most of his current advantage.

Up ahead, he saw the neon sign of a gas station glowing in the mounting gloom. He opted to fill up now so he didn't have to stop later, so manoeuvred into the station and drew alongside a pump.

An assistant came up and he told him how much fuel he wanted, heading into the store to pay the bill and buy something to eat and drink because he was desperately hungry and thirsty. So he snatched up a filled roll and some potato chips along with a bottle of water and paid up, pocketing the change before jogging back to the Buick. He sat in his seat and quickly crammed some food and drink in, hoping no one in the station had smelled the whiskey on him and decided to report him for driving under the influence. It was probably better not to hang about in case they had. He really didn't want anyone else around if Sarayah came after him. He was about to head back out onto the open road when he spotted something else. A payphone. Why hadn't he thought of that before? Now he was free he could call for help.

Cursing his pickled brain cells, he drew the car to a halt beside it, jumping out and fishing in his pocket for the change he'd just received at the checkout. So who was he going to call? All the numbers he had for anyone at Stargate Command had been in his cell phone. But he had to try, so he dialled the operator and asked to be put through to NORAD.

A voice chimed an announcement that he'd reached the facility, more than he'd hoped for.

'Uh, yeah, can you put me through to General Hammond please,' he asked, keeping his voice low.

There was a definite pause on the other end of the line before the woman answered, 'I'm sorry, no General Hammond works at this facility.'

He closed his eyes, dropping his forehead against the phone. He was exhausted and his body ached from the top of his head to his feet, but he couldn't give up, even if that was what every fibre of his being was telling him to do. 'I know he doesn't work at NORAD itself, but he _is_ located in your facility –'

'I'm sorry, Sir, but no one of that name works at this facility,' the female voice assured him once again.

Desperation seized him, and his normal civility evaporated in an instant. 'Look, lady...I know you're only doing your job, but I am in serious trouble here and I'm pretty damn sure General Hammond will thank you for putting me through. My name is Major John Sheppard, now stop being so damned efficient and patch –'

A flash of blue white light and a deafening crack led to a power outage that wiped out every light in the vicinity and the phone line went dead, too. Several hundred yards away, sparks flew out of a jumping cable, and a silhouetted figure staggered about, her shape illuminated for split seconds by the surging electrical current. Sarayah still wore that negligee, but also a jacket to afford her some modesty. Modesty? Was that an emotion she was even capable of?

Sheppard dropped the now useless receiver and left it dangling. 'No way...' he breathed, now edging carefully back toward the car, as if even the slightest movement might draw her attention to him.

'Hey, lady! What the hell you doin'?' he heard someone cry out, and he watched Sarayah slam her hand into his chest, sending him flying back into the road, a car swerving to avoid him.

Slipping into the driver's seat and quietly pulling the door shut, Sheppard frantically fumbled in his pocket for the key to start the car, all the time watching the street through his rear view mirror. 'I should've looked for the knife...sh...should've cut her throat,' he stammered, struggling to get the key in the ignition, his hands shaking so much he almost dropped it. 'No...she had a gun...should've looked for that! Too late now...what the hell do I do...? What the hell do I do...?'

Making himself take a deep breath, Sheppard tried to force the nervous breakdown currently threatening his sanity back to the recesses where it usually lurked. He absolutely refused to allow that woman to reduce him to a gibbering wreck. He was used to stress, and he'd been in seemingly unsalvageable situations before. This was no different...except it was...it was like nothing he'd ever faced before. Sure, Sarayah was clearly a little punchy right now, just like he was, but in a short while she'd be fighting fit again, and then he'd be in serious shit. And he had absolutely no idea how to stop her.

He started the engine, the sound making him flinch. He checked the mirror again, hoping Sarayah hadn't noticed the sound in the general chaos unfolding around her.

But she had.

She was looking straight at his vehicle, standing stock still, only the flashing electrical cable lighting her form.

What should he do? His brain swam, exhausted and addled by whiskey. He couldn't think straight any more. He desperately needed to rest, but she never gave him the chance. If he could just sleep he might be able to figure this out, but she was always there...always knew where he was and what he was thinking...

Then he remembered something. A couple of times back at Laurel's house he'd had an effect on her, his thoughts causing some kind of reaction that had physically impacted her at some level. Maybe he could use that to hold her at bay...and he could drive to Colorado, head to the SGC and demand to be heard...except it was a long way from here and he had no hope of staying awake that long. And if he didn't stay awake, he couldn't hold her at bay.

'John? Where are you going, John?'

Her screamed question from back down the street grated on his frayed nerves, forcing him into action. He slammed his foot on the gas and sped out of the forecourt, out onto the street and only narrowly avoiding another car.

'Don't follow me...don't follow me...' Sheppard repeated over and over, as if it was some kind of protective mantra. A strange sensation gripped his mind, an expansion, a reaching, groping, creeping sensation, a feeling that suggested he was connecting with her at some level. Was this actually going to work? He didn't dare to hope.

He pressed down hard on that gas pedal and kept up the speed, weaving his way through the city and somehow managing to miss every obstacle in his path, despite his slowed reactions. He thought about his location, and about the route he was taking, wondering if he dared try to make it to Colorado after all. If he really could keep Sarayah at bay while she continued to track him, he could lead her straight back to the SGC, where they had hopefully found some way to contain her. But if they hadn't...

Unfortunately, the very act of figuring out his course of action led to a faltering in his concentration, and in the next moment, Sarayah was in the seat beside him.

'You didn't answer my question, John,' she growled.

He almost screamed in panic, but reined it in, returning his focus to thinking her away from him. From the corner of his eye, he saw a shimmer, felt the static in the air build, but she remained in the seat.

'I've asked you not to do that, John.'

'Never was good at following instructions,' he grunted, determinedly thinking her away from him. The static built, but still she didn't go.

She reached over, grasping his thigh and flooding his head with images he tried to fight away while maintaining his battle of wills. He saw a creature, hideous and strangely awe inspiring, striding through a small, rough looking village of wooden huts, its long, white hair streaming behind it as it walked. _Wraith._

He shut the image out. He didn't want to see it. The sight awoke an almost overwhelming sense of guilt inside him, though he had no idea why. He felt responsible somehow for the death that dreaded creature was about to inflict. There were people in those huts, and that thing fed on them...not on their flesh, but on their life forces. For a moment, the emotion threatened to steal what little control he was exerting over her, but he snapped back to it, ignoring the distraction.

'Get the hell out of this car!' he yelled, gripping the wheel tighter in an effort to ground himself against the mental onslaught. If he could feel that wheel he was still there, still complete, and he could feel it, sure and solid beneath his sweaty palms. Again, he sensed the change in the air beside him, sensed her struggle to remain whole. He didn't understand why he could do this, but it was working to some degree. He had to stay focused.

'You see now why you shouldn't travel to Pegasus?' she asked, fingers sinking into his thigh as she increased the intensity of her contact. 'The Wraith were sleeping until you and your kind came to Atlantis. You somehow awoke them...perhaps it was that special connection to the Ancestors that piqued their interest. Without you stamping your way across the galaxy, the might have remained in their slumbers.'

He felt some truth in what she was saying, and he was filled with regret for the lives his actions had cost. Whether it was this supposed link to the Ancestors that had caused it or not, he wasn't sure, but he saw an image in his mind, a scarlet haired Wraith female, dying at his hand and telling him her death would awaken the others.

'_All of them.' _

_A writing sea of bodies in pods above his head made his heart skip several beats. What had he done? In saving a handful of lives, he had endangered millions of others...billions if these creatures found their way to Earth._

He forged his way back out of the memories that didn't belong to him yet. He could change all that. Just one simple act of self-destruction would ensure he could never see that destiny through.

Sarayah obviously sensed the thought. 'Stop the car, John,' she said, her voice low and even.

'You want me dead, right?' he asked, passing out of the city limits and out onto open road.

'No...no I don't.'

'You're lying. I sensed it back in Laurel's house. One last humiliation before you killed me. That was what it was all about, bringing me low in front of someone you knew I would hate to see me that way.'

'That wasn't –'

'Stop lying!' he screamed. 'I know what you're thinking, just like you know my thoughts.' He gripped the wheel, still there, still solid in his grasp. 'You know I'll kill you if you don't kill me, so guess what – you get your wish. Only, I get mine too, 'cos you're coming with me.'

The car's engine screamed in complaint as he forced every last ounce of speed out of it. Up ahead was a copse of trees at the side of the road. At this speed, there was no way they would walk away from it.

'Stop the car!' Sarayah shrieked. He could feel her trying to tear herself free, but this time he was holding onto her, ensuring she stayed put. This was the only solution he could think of, taking himself out, and although he knew that act would ensure Sarayah never came to Earth and so she would cease to exist, he wanted her to feel fear before that moment of extinction, to understand how she'd made others feel before snuffing them out.

'I don't think so,' he replied, a ferocious grin spreading across his face as he fed on her terror. It was certainly addictive, and for a moment he saw the appeal, then realised that was most likely because he was channelling her.

Sarayah let go of her hold on him, as if hoping that would weaken their bond. She screamed at him to stop again, but he'd already made up his mind. She'd forced his hand. This was something he had to do. The trees were only yards away. In seconds they would both be dead.

At least they would have been if he'd anticipated Sarayah's next move. He saw the swing of her left arm only a split second before he felt the contact of her left hook, the blow snapping his head round and knocking him dizzy.

The tingling set in, the steering wheel no longer firm in his fingers.

'NO!'

oooOOOooo

They reassembled on the peak of a curving rocky rise, one he recognised very well. It was Sphinx Rock in the Joshua Tree National Park, a place he'd spent many happy hours practicing his climbing skills. He stumbled and fell to his knees on the granite rock with the energy of the separation, catching his breath after the hyperventilation of that suicidal drive. Behind him, Sarayah continued to rant, far from satisfied that she'd foiled his plan.

'When will you ever learn?' she yelled. He felt her fingers grasp hold of his hair and drag him back, throwing him off balance and leaving him sprawling on his back on the cold hard stone. 'Your actions have consequences, John. If you'd just played things my way your vengeance would have been complete by now.' She dropped him and kicked his ribs, doubling him over. 'Yes, I meant to humiliate you, but I would have killed Laurel too, taking the revenge you've always been too weak to seek for yourself. But no, you had to turn all noble and save even that despicable creature. So you'll spare him but want me dead? Where does that leave me in your estimations? Lower than Laurel?'

'You said it,' he groaned, uncurling a little.

She squatted down, catching hold of his shirt front in her clenched fist. 'All right, if you insist on thinking the absolute worst of me, I might as well live up to your expectations. It could have been Laurel dying tonight. Now, I'll choose someone else to replace him.'

He grabbed hold of her hand, hoping to persuade her against that. 'Your argument's with me. You wanna beat on someone to feel better, I'm right here.' He tried to keep a grip on her, but even with his best concentration, she was able to melt away from beneath his hands.

'And you'll be right here when I get back. In fact, I can make sure of it.' She jabbed her right elbow into his face, so his head connected hard with the ground, both blows dazing him. Then she reached into the pocket of the jacket and pulled out a syringe, punching him when he tried to resist. He felt the sharp sting of the injection pierce his upper arm and knew it was too late to fight now. The effects began to take hold almost immediately, his mind seeming to detach from his body and float upward, hovering a few inches above his prostrate form.

'Kind of Laurel to leave a syringe out on his desk for me. But I do hope that dose wasn't too much in your condition,' she purred, mock concern puckering her brow. 'I wouldn't want you to die on me and spoil all my fun today. Now, time to take my recompense for your disobedience.'

He croaked a pitiful, 'No,' as she faded from sight with not a damn thing he could do about it. He'd screwed up big time, and now someone was going to pay for it. The panic that thought engendered barely had time to register before the drugs and alcohol surging through his body swept him away into blissful ignorance and the sleep he'd been craving for so long. This might be his very last breaths in this world, but he couldn't change that fact now, even if he'd wanted to. All he could hope was that his death would finally appease her desire for retribution, and nobody else would die because of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So he fought her off again, but now she's got him again? Eeep! **

**Thanks for all the reviews, please keep them coming! :)**


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

McKay returned to the lab after taking his first break, other than the meeting with Dr Beckett, in around ten hours. The walk had been a relief, but the artificial lighting just seemed to make everywhere feel jaundiced and unhealthy, especially to a claustrophobe like him.

He found only O'Neill, Carter and Daniel still in the lab, the others now conspicuous by their absence.

'Hey, where'd Teal'c and Beckett go?' he chirped, sipping at the coffee he'd picked up at the vending machine in the mess hall during his wanderings.

'It's 2345 hours, McKay. Where d'ya thing they are?' O'Neill asked, swivelling his chair back and forth as if it were a fairground ride.

'Huh! Lightweights,' McKay snorted, resuming his seat. 'I got another few hours in me yet.'

'Not surprising since you already drank at least half your body weight in caffeine since lunch,' O'Neill pointed out.

'Well, at the risk of seeming like a "lightweight", I might call it a night too,' Daniel announced, stifling a yawn. 'If you think I can help with anything, you know where I am.'

'Oh, yes. If Carter and I, the two foremost experts in Stargate mechanics require your assistance, we'll be sure to call,' McKay sneered as he shuffled toward the door, earning a warning look from Carter. He just shrugged and ran the next diagnostic in their list of things to do.

Daniel didn't even make it out, stopped in his tracks by the sudden appearance of General Hammond. 'We have a development, people,' he told them, waiting until he was sure he had their undivided attentions before continuing. 'I've been told that Major Sheppard tried to make contact with me just a few minutes ago.'

'Really? Where was he?' McKay asked, straightening up at the news.

'We have no idea. The call was cut short before he could be patched through.'

'Don't tell me, they put him on hold,' O'Neill interrupted. 'I always hang up when that happens.'

Actually, the call was cut short from Major Sheppard's end...the line went completely dead. The operator says he sounded in a state of high agitation.'

'Oh, I can't possibly think why!' McKay squeaked. 'I imagine Sarayah's been taking very good care of him.'

'I'm betting Sarayah's the reason that call got cut short,' Daniel mused. 'If we track the last energy anomaly, we might be able to locate them...or at least narrow down the search area.'

'On it,' Carter replied, firing up the programme they'd devised specifically to track Sarayah's movements.

'Is the Prometheus ready to go?' O'Neill asked.

'It's in orbit above this facility and awaiting our call,' Hammond nodded. 'You can go as soon as the containment device is ready.'

'We still have more diagnostics to run. It could be another couple of hours at least,' McKay complained. 'We can't be sure it'll work.'

'I thought you were confident the device would work, Dr McKay. Besides, if Sarayah knows Sheppard just tried to make contact with us, he may not have a couple of hours,' O'Neill told him, his dark gaze burning into him. 'We need to move now.'

'I have her,' Carter called, and everyone jumped up from their seats to view the data on her laptop. 'Last known transportation took her from the outskirts of Cherry Hill, New Jersey back to Kandahar...tracking back it looks like she's been to Sheppard's home town before that...I wonder why?'

'Maybe she stopped so he could pick up some things...How is that relevant?' McKay snapped. 'We can speculate until the cows come home, but all that matters is where she's at now!'

They all started as Carter's laptop beeped, alerting them to another movement. 'Okay, where's she going now?'

A slight breeze behind them gave them only a split second clue, and before any of them had time to react Sarayah appeared right in front of O'Neill and then was gone again, the fleeting glimpse of the crazed woman in the negligee and dinner jacket throwing them all into a state of confusion.

'What the—' McKay started to say, then he watched in horror as Colonel O'Neill crumpled to the floor, hitting it face first without any attempt to break his own fall.

A second of stunned inactivity followed, then Carter and Daniel rushed forward too, turning him over. He was out cold and unresponsive.

'She...she touched him...I mean...I saw her hand going towards him but I don't think she punched him or anything like that...'

'We need Dr Fraiser here now!' Carter cried, her voice cracking with panic. She slipped the colonel's head onto her lap, cradling it and wiping the blood from his damaged nose.

Hammond was on the phone and putting the call out in an instant. 'What did she do to him?' he asked once he'd done it, his face unusually blanched as he crouched beside them.

'She just seemed to touch him,' McKay repeated, still in shock and aware he was rambling but unable to stop himself. 'She touched his head...at least that's all it looked like...but maybe she did more. What if she took his brain like she did the cab driver?'

'McKay!' Daniel's piercing gaze finally silenced him, though the look they exchanged told McKay Daniel was worried he might be right.

'He's still alive,' Carter asserted. 'She can't have done that.'

SFs flooded the room, taking up defensive positions, though it was all too little too late, and absolutely no help to O'Neill. A few minutes later a very dishevelled Fraiser came running in with two of her medical team steering in a gurney. 'What happened?'

'I didn't see...it all happened too quickly,' Sam confessed, visibly trembling as the reality of the situation sank in.

'I did...Sarayah appeared and she touched him...touched his head. Just a quick jabbing motion and it was all over,' McKay sputtered, shaking along with her now.

Janet prised open O'Neill's eyes. Shining her penlight into them. Something she saw clearly troubled her, because she ordered her team to immediately move him to the infirmary and prep him for surgery.

'What is it?' Carter asked. 'What did she do?'

'The colonel's left pupil is fixed and dilated, which suggests he's suffered some kind of brain injury. We need to get him scanned and get in there to fix it. That way he might stand a chance of making it.'

And with that they were all gone except General Hammond, who called after them to keep him apprised of the colonel's condition.

McKay still stood on the spot he'd been rooted to through the entire debacle. He looked at the general, who still looked pale compared to his usually ruddy complexion, and squeaked. 'She just...she just touched him. If she can do that to O'Neill, she could do that to any one of us. She can pick us off one by one.'

'Which is exactly why we need you to get that device ready, Dr McKay. I take it I can leave that with you?'

'Uh...yeah...sure,' he said to the general's now retreating back. 'I can do that.' And he had no doubt he could because he was the kind of person who thrived under pressure. Although, right now, the pressure of being alone in a room Sarayah had just infiltrated and taken out O'Neill before anyone could even bat an eyelid didn't make him feel all that focused.

Finally tearing his feet loose from his place on the floor, he returned to his seat and lost himself in his work. There wasn't anything he could do to help O'Neill now, or anyone else if Sarayah chose to strike again. That was why he had to do this. The sooner she was contained, the sooner they could all rest easy in their beds again.

oooOOOooo

_It was hot...at least he felt hot. The beeping of his heart monitor and the intermittent whirr of the blood pressure monitor kept Sheppard company as he lay back against his pillows, too weak to even bother to open his eyes._

_Someone came into his side bay in the infirmary and sat down near the bed, taking hold of his hand. It had to be Teyla. She was the only one who ever did that._

_He forced his leaden lids apart to glimpse her worried expression._

'_How are you feeling, John?' she asked. 'You look a little better.'_

'_Liar,' he croaked, surprised by just how weak his voice sounded. 'I look like crap and you know it.'_

'_Would you like a drink?'_

_He nodded, and she lifted his glass of water for him, steering the straw between his parched lips. Even the slight effort of lifting his head to take the drink drained him. He dropped his head back against the pillows, spent._

'_Dr Beckett feels he is close to producing the antidote now, John,' Teyla said, her soothing voice as gentle as the hand she stroke across his clammy forehead. 'He tells me it will only take another day of work...two at most.'_

_Sheppard gave the merest nod in acknowledgement, all he could manage to tell her he'd heard. He suspected she knew as well as he did that he didn't have a day left in him, the poison in his system now having ravaged his body leaving irreparable damage._

'_Who'da thought the batcat was venomous?' he forced out of his constricted throat, even managing a flicker of a smile to go with it. He closed his eyes to ride the wave of nausea his speaking caused to wash over him. 'Always knew that woman...would be the death of me...one way or another.'_

_He heard Teyla give the slightest chuckle, but it choked into a sob. 'Even Sarayah is not to blame for this. Rodney feels terrible that you have endured so much to ensure we would still find the experimental 'gate for it to come to this.'_

'_He'll get over it once he figures out what went wrong,' Sheppard quipped. _

'_I fear not...he feels responsible for your condition.'_

_Sheppard could hear the tremble in her voice as she said those words. Without opening his eyes he reached out to her, knowing she would take his outstretched hand. 'Tell him this isn't his fault. I shouldn't have assumed the attack was coming from ground level...maybe in some alternate universe somewhere I don't..or maybe if I think about it, I can make sure I know next time...get this message back to myself somehow...'_

_His body felt cold, had done for the better part of a day now, chilled with the promise of imminent death. And he was getting colder with every passing hour. He shivered, drawing in a shuddering breath. Speaking with Teyla had exhausted him, had dragged out every last piece of energy he had. 'Might...sleep...now,' he told her. He felt like he could sleep forever._

_Teyla's grip on his hand tightened. 'But I haven't told you about Torren, yet. He said his first word today...and tried to walk unaided. He is changing so much so quickly.'_

_He gave her a brief smile, but he could feel himself slipping, his consciousness fading as it released its connection to his body. He had to sleep whether she wanted him to or not, and he wasn't certain he would wake up again. He tried to squeeze Teyla's hand in return, though he doubted he was exerting any pressure at all because he could barely feel it in his._

'_Please, John, do not leave me. You must fight on. Please...wake up for me, John. Wake up!'_

_But the serenity that enveloped him now was too strong to resist, pulling him down to blackness, silence and the promise of a rest well earned... _

'WAKE UP!'

The stinging sensation on his left cheek brought Sheppard abruptly back to wakefulness. The heat hit him immediately, dry and stifling, his body saturated with sweat and hurting all over. If he'd died, he'd definitely ended up in the other place. Well, no surprises there. Nothing ever went according to plan.

'I said WAKE UP!'

Another brutal backhand to his face made him open his eyes to the sight of Sarayah kneeling over him. Aw, crap. Had she come to hell, too? That wasn't fair – she would enjoy hell. She should have gone to heaven...that would have been her hell. All the niceness would drive her nuts.

Another slap brought him out of his trippy daydreaming to the realisation they weren't in heaven or hell at all. The mountains he could see around him from his horizontal perspective reminded him of the place they'd hidden out in Kandahar...Oh, no...no way...no way was he back in Kandahar again. He'd been back in the states...not that far from home...

He screamed out his frustration, the sound echoing back from all sides until Sarayah slapped her hand across his mouth to silence him. 'That's not a very clever thing to do, John. Not when I'm already so angry. Now stop that shouting or I'll cut your tongue right out of your head.'

She brandished her knife, strapped to her right wrist again, to prove she had the ability to carry out her threat. He swallowed down his cry and kept silent as she slowly moved her hand away, letting it trail down his neck and on over his T-shirt. Her touch made every follicle on his body bristle with revulsion. He just couldn't do this anymore. Why didn't she kill him and get it over with? Then, the memory of her parting words rushed back in on him, extinguishing his self pity. 'Where did you go? What did you do?'

'That's no concern of yours.'

'I thought there were consequences to my actions. Not exactly a punishment if I don't know what you did.'

She backhanded him again, a bitter smile twisting her mouth. 'You forget, I know you well, John. Not knowing will cripple you more than if I tell you. Suffice to say, someone paid for your stupidity.'

She stood up and walked away from him, and it was only now that he realised he was staked out again, duct taped to four wooden posts driven firmly into the craggy ground. The land beneath him was hot and the sun was beating down on his face, threatening to burn his skin. So what next? A three course meal followed by a nice cool drink while they went back to waiting this out? He hoped not, his stomach was cramping horribly as the morphine left him. If she even so much as suggested gutting a hare he was sure he would hurl.

When the kit bag she'd been hauling around the world with them thudding in the dust beside his head, making him cough, he realised she had other ideas in mind, none of them good.

He tried not to freak out as she delved into the depths of the pack, tossing aside various unwanted items. 'You know, if you'd just stayed put at Laurel's house all this would be over for you by now, but no. You always have to break the rules. So now this has to be hard for you.'

He almost laughed out loud at that one. Because this had all been so easy for him so far? He'd had a few nice trips – free of charge – met up with some of the locals, even got drunk and then high. Now that was a vacation to write home about...if it weren't for the lashings, the bear mauling, the cigarette burns and, oh yeah, watching his wife get shot. And now his stomach hurt like he'd been shot, too. Had she shot him? Had he slept through that? Was he dying as he lay there? Crap! Why wouldn't his brain shut off and give him a break from this paranoia?

Sarayah now produced the drill she'd swiped from the Al Qaeda guys she'd murdered, examining it and quickly working out how to operate it. To Sheppard, the bit looked huge and shone menacingly in the sunlight, taking on a malevolent personality of its own. That could not be good. He was about to become Swiss cheese in the baking hot Afghanistan sun. As she depressed the trigger he thought the battery sounded low, but he didn't dare hope, his luck was never that good. It was probably just another affect of the bad trip he was wrestling with.

She focused on him, a decidedly mean glint lighting her eyes. 'Now where should I start?' she mused, eyeing him up and down gleefully. 'Nothing instantly life threatening, of course, because I want this to be slow...slow and very, very painful.'

She knelt beside him and he felt her uncover his left shin. 'I could start here, take out both your legs so you can't run even if you want to.'

She revved the drill for added effect, its sluggishness clear in the pitch of its whine. _Please don't work...please don't work! _he silently prayed to anyone up there listening.

The tip came in contact with his skin, twisting and slicing and digging in...then growling to a halt. Eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted he waited for her to push on, and she tried, he had to give her credit for her determination, the bit giving one last buzz and turn before it ground to a halt again.

She pulled it back, giving it another test. It sounded worse this time, but it didn't stop her giving it another go. It felt like she jabbed it back into the same initial spot she'd chosen, ripping a reluctant scream from him as it twisted a little and died again.

'Useless!' she huffed, throwing it away and pulling the pack over to her to search through it some more.

Sheppard lifted his head off the ground to watch her, checking out the bloody, though thankfully small, injury to his shin. He'd been lucky after all, but when she pulled out the bolt-cutters he figured that luck had pretty much run out already.

Her eyes met his, drinking in his fear with obvious delight. He dropped his head back to the ground and stared up at the vast blue sky, wishing he was anywhere but there.

'Now these look very useful,' Sarayah snarled, snapping them a few times loudly enough for him to hear no matter how hard he was trying to ignore her. 'So, what should I test them on? A finger, a thumb, one of your toes?'

He remained stubbornly staring up at the almost pristine blue, only the merest wisps of cloud tarnishing its virtual perfection. He wished he was up there now.

'Answer me, John.'

'I am not about to name my own torture,' he grunted, setting his jaw and wishing he could curl up just a little to alleviate the pain in his stomach.

'Are you sure about that? You see, if you leave it up to me, I might pick an appendage you'd really rather not lose.'

She rested her hand, still clutching the cutter, on the top of his thigh, as if he needed any more clues about which appendage in particular she was talking about. And although she was right that the thought of her doing that affected him more deeply than the loss of a finger, if he was going to die anyway, he absolutely refused to beg her not to do it.

'Still not talking?' she taunted, clambering on top of him and straddling his thighs. She slid her body up his, slamming the bolt cutters down next to his right ear. 'So you're going to place your tortures entirely in my hands? Do you think that's wise? You know how...carried away I can get.'

He lay rigid beneath her, refusing to move or even acknowledge that she was on him. She pressed on by forcing her face in closer to his, completely violating his space and air. 'Maybe I could start with your nose,' she teased, tapping it lightly with her finger. 'Or how about those adorable ears?' She traced the outline of his right ear, making him squirm. 'Then maybe I'll take off each of your fingers, one by one,' she purred, sliding her hand along the length of his pinned arm and forcing her fingers between his, entwining them. She sighed, grasping his hand in her. 'But I'll miss you when you're gone...' she said, her voice just a whisper.

Sheppard shuddered, creeped out by the sudden change in mood. So he stirred her anger, because her anger was easier to deal with than this. 'Can't say I feel the same, freak.'

She pushed back, pouting, then grabbed up the cutters she'd discarded in the dirt. 'Maybe I'll just keep a part of you as a memento when I'm done. What shall I choose? Oh...it's too hard to decide now. I'll just start with those fingers and pick something to keep later.'

She nudged the cutter handles apart with the aid of her stump, then positioned them around Sheppard's index finger, pressing the top handle with her right forearm to clamp them down.

Sheppard felt the first pinch, pressing his lips together hard in anticipation of the explosion of pain to come...but she didn't follow through.

'No, you know, I'm not comfortable with this,' she told him, nudging the cutters open and freeing him. 'It's more of a two-handed tool, and as you can see, I'm a little lacking. Besides, I wouldn't want you to bleed out and end this too soon. That would be such a waste of good suffering time.'

Then she clambered off him again, leaving him to regain his composure ready for the next test. So was this all part of his punishment? Was scaring him to death her ploy? No, he figured she was just getting warmed up.

'Ah, now this is much more my thing,' she announced loudly. The sonic crack that split the air let him know what she had hold of now without the need to look. He just closed his eyes and hoped beyond hope that she would make this quick despite her promises to draw it out.

'Good thing I learned how to use a whip left-handed for when my right arm grew tired,' she said, walking back over to him and sitting down on his abdominals exacerbating his cramping pains. 'I've been keeping men in line with one of these since I was just fourteen years old,' she continued, holding the stiff handle up where he would be able to see it while the loose length trailed away to the ground. 'Until then, I was a frightened child, jumping at every noise, fearing the shadows each night...but then a woman called Marayala taught me how to use one of these and I felt...empowered. I've never looked back in fear again.'

Sheppard listened, and at some level understood. What he'd seen those men do to her had left her unhinged, and learning she could be powerful against them had seemingly tipped the balance of her mind. But he couldn't empathise. How could he? The crazy bitch had shot his wife and spent the past few days beating the crap out of him, all for something he hadn't even done yet. He couldn't forgive her for that.

'This will be a first for both of us.' He spotted her face turn his way from the corner of his eye, but he still refused to return her gaze. 'For you, it is the first time you'll feel the lash at my hand. For me...it will be the first time I have been able to see the agony in your eyes while thrashing you. On Medulsa, I was forbidden to lash anywhere other than the backs of the prisoners. I always thought it was a pitiful waste of entertainment not to be able to witness their pain and terror in its full glory. Now, you get the opportunity to indulge me before you die.'

'Glad to be of service,' he muttered bitterly, his heart pounding against his breast bone, which she could no doubt feel from the position she was sitting in.

She sighed again, lifting the trailing whip with her stump and sliding her injured limb along its full length until it dropped again. 'Sometimes I feel quite wistful for those old days, but having tasted life outside of Medulsa I know I could not go back there now. I've changed...outgrown them...become something much greater than they could ever accept. They're just simple people who would be blinded by my sheer magnificence.'

He couldn't stop himself from snorting out a laugh. 'Try not to choke on your own self-importance there.'

'You don't agree that I'm great now?' She leaned in over him, forcing him to look at her.

Reluctantly, he turned his eyes to hers at last. 'Power doesn't make you great. It's what you do with it that matters.'

'Well, how very poetic!' she sneered, her lip curling. 'And I suppose if this had happened to you, you would be out there right now saving starving children and ladies in distress, you virtuous little whelp.'

'I certainly wouldn't be killing innocent people!' he snapped back, holding her fiercely accusative stare with one equally condemning.

'No? I suppose that's because you are all that's right in this universe, while I am clearly all that's wrong?' she goaded, her eyes roaming all over his face now, drinking in every nuance of his expression.

'I've never suggested I'm perfect!' he yelled, reacting at last. 'I've done a lot of things in my life I regret, things I wish I could change or take back, but whatever I did to you...that ranks up there with my biggest regrets of all.'

She quirked an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 'Because you hurt me?'

'No...because it brought you here. But maybe that's one thing I can change...'

'Still think you have control of me? Still think you can send me away with enough concentration?' she taunted, dropping the whip to grasp his face. 'Haven't you learned by now that you can't win?'

'Yes, I've learned that!' he lied. 'Just do what you have to do to get your_ recompense_ and make it quick.'

She stared back at him, blinking a couple of times before absorbing what he'd said. 'You're not going to fight?'

He laughed out loud, sounding manic even to his own ears. 'Fight? How? And with what? You have me beat, what do you want me to do?'

She hesitated, and for the briefest moment he saw a look of genuine sadness flit through her expression. So what did she regret? That she'd reduced him to this?

'I once believed you to be a great man, John,' she said quietly. 'I thought you were strong...unbreakable, but now I see I was wrong. You're just as weak as all the other men I've broken in my time. Not one of them fought to the end, but I really thought you would. Everything I've gone through...everything I've endured has been a waste of my time. I've thrown years of my life away chasing you down and now you just give up? How can you just GIVE UP?'

'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?' he yelled back at her. 'If I fight I'm wrong, and if I give up I'm still wrong! Now do whatever that screwed up brain of yours tells you you have to do to feel better and get this over with!'

She stared at him, eyes moist, brow puckered into a frown, then she gave him the vaguest smile and nodded. 'You're right, John. My mind will find no peace until you're gone.'

She stood up and walked a short distance away, turning to face him. 'I suppose there's still courage in the choice you've made. You've chosen death, but you're still not begging for it. But before I finish with you, you will beg me to end your life, John. That much I can promise you.'

Sheppard closed his eyes and swallowed deeply, finding no saliva to lubricate his dry throat. He comforted himself by thinking about the fact his death would make Sarayah disappear from this timeline so she could do no more harm. And he would feel no more pain, not just the physical battering he'd taken over the past few days, but his mental anguish at not knowing whether or not Nancy was dead would end, too. A brief thought about whether he would see her on the other side flitted through his mind a second before the sound of flying leather whistled through the air and a crack rang out, echoing in the vast mountains. He felt a slam across his chest followed shortly by the gradual, slow building burn of damaged skin. He remembered this only too well from his nightmares. And it would only get worse from here. An obsession that had begun with a lashing would end with one, there was a certain symmetry in that that his mathematically orientated brain found comforting...although the after effects of the morphine were probably helping, too.

A second thump on his chest made his whole body jerk, and he forced his head back in the dirt to ride out the pain, clenching his teeth hard. That injury, too, began to burn, building into a raw throb that pounded in his chest, demanding attention to relieve its tenderness. But no one was coming to help him. No one was going to ease this agony.

A third blow made him buck, striking partially across the first two and setting the already painful skin alight with increased intensity of sensation. With his eyes screwed tight shut against it, he became conscious of a shadow passing overhead, blotting out the sun. What was that? He cracked his eyes open and squinted against the sunlight to find a vulture circling. Now that was plain insulting. Didn't it have the decency to be more discreet?

The bird screeched out a mournful cry, momentarily drawing his assailant's attention. 'It seems we have an audience,' she called to him, lashing out again.

This time Sheppard whimpered, biting down hard on his lip to cut it short.

'There's no shame in crying out, John. Who knows, I might even take pity on you,' Sarayah taunted, a little too much humour in her voice for his liking.

'I don't want you to,' he muttered, though her acute hearing picked up on it anyway.

'I wonder what I'll do once I'm finished here,' she mused, cracking the whip again and unleashing another unbelievable build of pain. 'So many places to see and people to dominate...'

A tear streaked down his cheek, more vital moisture escaping his dehydrated body. He wondered which would kill him first; shock, blood loss or lack of fluids. Another lash hit, striking high across his collar bones and outstretched arms. He bucked again, this time unable to avoid vocalising his distress. And then, with the pain came a sudden clarity of thought. If he died, it was true he would never travel to Pegasus and never carry out his part in bringing Sarayah here, but if she never came to Earth, that meant he wouldn't die...which meant he would travel to Pegasus unaware of the future meeting that would lead to these events. Sarayah wasn't the only one who hadn't fully thought this through. He'd failed to grasp the truth of the matter, too. Now he understood the vision he'd had in the Inuit's hut. He'd gone through with his journey to Atlantis so he could change things. He could lead Rodney to the 'gate he so wanted to find, but also stop Sarayah getting to Nancy. Only by living could he actually change the timeline to stop Sarayah coming to Earth. Dying would just start the chain of events off all over again.

Another blow slammed into him, and he screamed low in his throat, throwing his head back against the ground as the rest of his body strained against his restraints.

'I...I wonder if...you'll choose to...to kill me this way next time...too!' he grated out just before another lash stole his breath. He closed his eyes and rode the wave of pain as it built to another agonising pulse.

There was a slight pause before Sarayah asked, 'What do you mean?'

He took a moment, panting and trying to piece his explanation together in the best way he could. His brain still wasn't firing as it should, and this pain sure as hell wasn't helping. 'I mean, when I die, and time resets itself, I wonder if you'll choose this way to end things next time...every time. I guess there's some method to it. You said holding a whip made you feel strong.'

'When you die, this ends,' she stated.

He turned to look at her, just in time to see her raise her arm and let loose another blow, one that struck straight across his abdomen. He screamed out through clenched teeth again, trying desperately to stay focused on what he needed to say. He had to make her afraid to kill him...that way he could live to change things another day.

'Yes...it does...for now. And then I don't go to Pegasus, I...don't meet you...and then you don't come back here.' She lashed him again, and he arched against the pain of it, his head and heels digging into the dirt. 'Gunnhh! Would you just listen! You might learn something!'

'I thought you were above this level of deception, John. Is this what you have sunk to in your attempts not to beg for your life?'

This wasn't working. She'd figured out he was trying to change her mind. Through the pain clouding his thoughts, he realised the only option left to him was a touch of reverse psychology.

'Go ahead and kill me. I'm not afraid. I'll be back and so will you...still minus that hand.'

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for her to strike him again. A few seconds passed without violence, but he didn't dare to hope she'd come to a standstill. Finally, she broke the silence with single word.

'Explain.'

His torso stung like fury so he could barely concentrate, but he pulled the words together from somewhere, forcing his own brain to make sense of the timeline mess she'd created.

'You kill me here, I never go to Medulsa, we never fall out, you don't decide to make oppressing me your life's work, and what I do to you on Guedeseo never happens...which means you can't come back here to kill me, so I travel to Pegasus just as I did the first time round and we battle it out all over again.' He huffed out a laugh, flinching at the discomfort it heightened. 'Gotta marvel at the irony of it, really!'

'So...I cannot change things for myself?' she asked, her voice a little weaker this time.

'No...you can't. At least not this way.'

'Then how?'

He rolled his eyes toward her, trying to swallow, but his dry throat making it hard. He wanted to ask for a drink, but he didn't dare lose the momentum he had going. There were tears in her eyes, threatening to spill. Not that he fooled himself for a second about what those tears were. They weren't sadness, or fear. They were tears of anger and frustration – the tears of a woman whose plans to break him had once again been thwarted.

'Why would I tell you that?' he sneered with all the venom he could muster, looking up to the sky again.

With a rush of air she landed on top of him, materialising on his chest and grabbing hold of his hair, slamming his head against the ground. The contact, though a punishment, also allowed her access to his mind, where she obviously found him to be telling the truth. She screeched, pounding her fist onto his lacerated chest.

'No! This can't be! All the power I possess and I still can't bring back my hand?'

Sheppard gritted his teeth through the assault, her blows raining down until her fist drew back stained with his blood.

Then...she sobbed.

Sheppard watched her as he panted through the pain, expecting her attack to begin again at any time, but it didn't. Instead, Sarayah covered her eyes and let her tears run freely, her whole body shaking with the force of her weeping. Though he dearly wanted her to get off him and alleviate his discomfort, every sob shaking through his battered body too, he didn't dare suggest it. This was a delicate moment, one he didn't think he should disturb. She'd move or go psycho on him again eventually, depending on which of her personas chose to surface.

Sarayah swivelled around so she was no longer straddling him, turning her face away while the movement dragged at his shredded skin and drew a reluctant groan from deep in his throat. 'All this power...all this power...' she said to herself, repeating it as if that would somehow change things.

'The only way for you to get away from the pain of everything you've lost is to end your own life,' he said, finding the courage to speak to her at last. It was a lie, but if he could make her believe it, perhaps it would tip her over the edge.

She lifted her hand away from her eyes, the impression of her fingers still painted there in his blood. Other than that she didn't react, perhaps seriously considering his suggestion for just a moment. Her crying slowed and faltered to a stop, calmness reasserting itself. This change could go one of two ways and pegged out the way he was, all he could do was wait and see.

When she raised her knife wielding arm to stare at it, he thought it was over for one of them, but, instead of plunging it into his heart as he feared she would, she crawled over to his feet and cut his bonds, then did the same to his wrists. Then she sat in the dirt and hung her head, seemingly defeated.

Though he could barely move he forced himself to sit, wrapping an arm around himself to try to ease at least some of the discomfort of his bruised and lacerated torso, not to mention the hideous cramps from the mix of drink and drugs. So she was releasing him? This was a good sign...hopefully. Maybe he could persuade her to take him back to safety, too. Once he'd regained his breath from even that small effort, he spoke to her again. 'You know, you've screwed up big time with the people who matter in the Stargate programme...but you could still redeem yourself. They need information, information only you have, the 'gate address of the Lost City.'

'It's in your head somewhere, if you dig deep enough,' she muttered, not lifting her head.

'Maybe...or maybe not. But you definitely know the symbols they need. That would score you some serious points with them. If you hand yourself in willingly, they may just give you a second chance.'

'From freak to hero? I don't think so,' she snorted into her chest.

He shifted his position when the pain in his body reached a crescendo, spotting the vulture sitting in a nearby tree and hopping from one foot to another impatiently. _Not today, ugly,_ he thought._ At least, I hope not._

'It's not so hard to imagine,' he pushed. 'With all the things you can do you could be a big help to my government. Look at what you did to those men who captured us. You could clear these mountains of insurgents in weeks...days maybe –'

'But why would I?' she snapped, eyes now meeting his and burning with anger again. 'In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a good person, John. Nothing that has happened here changes that, not even the realisation that I am to be stuck like this forever.' She held up her stump briefly, then let her arm fall back to her side. 'I thought I could finally do this...finally oppress you completely. Stop you from meeting me on Medulsa and possessing my mind...why won't you get out of my head?'

She pushed up from the ground and stalked away from him, stopping at a distance of twenty yards or so and covering her eyes again, her shoulders shaking. She'd wanted to break him...she'd told him that enough times for the fact to be utterly clear...but it attempting to do it, she'd apparently broken her own spirit.

'There are people back at the SGC...people like Dr Jeffries who can help you to feel better,' he called to her. 'Maybe in time –'

'Stop...stop...' She shook her head, turning to face him. 'You win, John Sheppard. Just like you always win. Go back to your precious SGC if that's what you want so much. I won't stop you.'

And then she was gone.

He blinked at the space she'd just occupied, hardly daring to hope she'd really left him. But minutes passed by and she didn't return. She'd abandoned him to fight for his survival alone.

Sheppard looked down at himself, battered and sliced and barely able to stand let alone walk and realised that no matter how crappy he felt, he was going to have to get himself out of this situation. Had she decided she didn't care whether he lived or died after all, as long as it wasn't at her own hand?

He rolled onto his hands and knees then struggled up to his feet, staying doubled over and gasping as he slowly straightened. Oh yeah, this was going to be real easy. He glanced up to his pal in the tree again, addressing him directly this time. 'Hang around, Ugly. Your luck may be in yet.'

He set off in a southerly direction and hoped for the best. Maybe he'd stumble across a road and get picked up by friendlies. Or maybe he'd collapse from blood loss and heat exhaustion and give his ugly friend a good meal. All he knew was his ordeal with Sarayah was finally over. Anything that happened now could only be an improvement.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So she's gone? Really? But Sheppard's not out of the woods yet. He still has to get to help.**

**Thanks once again for all the reviews. They're very much appreciated. :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28 **

Even McKay felt the need for humility as he shuffled into the infirmary, a heavy silence hanging in the room where Colonel O'Neill lay in recovery from his surgery. Sam sat at his bedside, Daniel, dozed in a chair nearby, and Teal'c...well, Teal'c was Teal'c, strong and silent as ever, a fearless sentinel who would do anything he could to protect O'Neill from further harm. McKay really couldn't read the guy...probably never would, but he was glad he was on his side.

'How's he doing?' he asked no one in particular.

Daniel's head snapped up, his glasses barely clinging to his nose. 'Huh?'

'He's stable,' Sam replied somewhat more helpfully. 'But we won't know what the damage is until he wakes up.' She choked on those final words, battling to keep her composure, but Rodney caught the sight of the tear in her eyes before she turned away.

McKay's heart sank. It wasn't as if he and Colonel O'Neill were best friends, in fact, he doubted O'Neill would consider him a friend at all, but he like the man, he had a directness of manner McKay could relate to, and he sure as hell didn't deserve this. 'Damage? There could be permanent damage?'

'Dr Fraiser said she thinks it'll be minor, which is a miracle in itself. A few millimetres further one way or the other and it could have been a lot worse,' Daniel continued, Sam now unable to finish the explanation.

McKay nodded. 'So we just have to wait and see?'

'That's about it.' Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked a few times to wake himself up, before sliding his glasses back up and looking at McKay again. 'Was there something you wanted, McKay?'

'I just spoke with General Hammond. He got called away to take a call from the president, but he wants us all to meet in the conference room to discuss what happens next.'

Teal'c arched an eyebrow, as much of a response as McKay had expected, then dipped his head in acknowledgement of the instruction.

Sam sat up straight, smoothing away at the tears beneath her eyes, then stood. 'Okay, let's go.'

She looked pale and careworn, something Daniel obviously spotted, too. 'Are you okay, Sam?' he asked as he pushed up from his own chair. 'Maybe you could stay here while we go to the meeting.'

'No...I need to be there. Besides...it's not like there's much I can do here,' she replied, 'Janet will let us know if anything changes.'

'Hey, this is Jack,' Daniel joked, rubbing her arm. 'He's gotten through a lot worse than this. He's gonna pull through.'

She nodded, but his kind words brought her back to the brink of tears. She swept past them all, setting a pace they had difficulty keeping up with.

They all assembled in the conference room as the general had requested, but it was ten minutes more before the general himself joined them. He immediately apologised for keeping them waiting, and took up his seat at the head of the table.

'I just got through speaking with the president. I know this is a difficult time for you all, but he wants us to implement the operation to apprehend Sarayah as soon as possible.'

A knock on the doorframe announce the arrival of another guest, and Carson bumbled in, spouting apologies and making his way over to a spare seat. He looked dishevelled and just as exhausted as the rest of them now. Apparently he'd been a big help during surgery, and it had been in a large part down to him that the colonel hadn't suffered greater damage to his brain than was evident from current scans.

'Thank you for joining us, Dr Beckett. I know you've had a long night.'

'Yes...well...I'm sure I'll get a chance to catch up on some sleep later. I was told this was important.'

'I was just telling SG-1 and Dr McKay that the president wishes us to implement our plan to recapture Sarayah without delay,' Hammond recapped to bring the Scot up to speed.

'Oh...right.' The doctor's bright blue eyes darted around the table, as if he was rapidly assessing from their expressions what his own reaction should be.

'Well that could be a little difficult,' Daniel was the first to point out. 'With Jack incapacitated, getting Sarayah in the right place in the right condition at the right time can't be guaranteed...not if the technology works in the way Dr Beckett suggested. We won't have the mental control over her we were hoping for.'

'If it works that way,' McKay snorted, then felt bad for criticising at a time like this. It was how he dealt with stress, but it wasn't helping anyone else. He mentally chastised himself and promised himself he wouldn't do it again.

'Well, whether Dr Beckett's theory is correct or not, we need to press ahead. My understanding is that it may still be possible to perform the capture if the timing is right.'

'Yes, Sir,' Sam nodded, her face still reflecting her current anguish even as her logical brain kicked into gear. 'We need the device to be in close range to Sarayah to ensure it will be more powerful than anything the experimental 'gate itself might generate within her, but if we activate it just as she tries to travel, the exact moment the bonds between her cells break apart, we should be able to capture and hold her in that disassembled state indefinitely.'

Hammond nodded, taking her comments on board. 'So, with that in mind, we revert to our original plan to use someone unknown to Sarayah to move the device into close enough proximity.'

'Actually...I might be able to help with this...' The suggestion came from a very meek looking Carson, who was holding up his hand as if he was a school kid asking permission to go to the bathroom.

'You?' McKay practically laughed, almost instantly breaking his internalised promise. 'Sorry, but I think your PhD is in the wrong field. You can't slap a band-aid on this and prescribe a course of antibiotics!'

'I appreciate that as a _lowly medic_ I'm not blessed with the brain capacity of yourself and Major Carter –' Carson began, throwing him a withering look.

'I didn't say that,' Sam quickly pointed out, leaving McKay out on a limb again.

'No, dear, but it's true,' he continued. 'Like I said, I don't have the brain capacity you two are blessed with, but I do have something you may need.'

'Yes, yes. Don't keep us all in suspense,' McKay insisted, hurrying him along.

'I have the same gene Major Sheppard and the colonel have.'

McKay gaped back at him with a mixture of elation and annoyance. 'What? Why didn't you mention that before?'

'Well, it wasn't important before when Colonel O'Neill was going to carry out the operation, but now it is...although...I have to confess my gene representation isn't as strong as that of either the colonel or Major Sheppard and I have absolutely no experience of this kind of thing. To be honest, the whole idea absolutely terrifies me!'

'Actually, this is perfect,' Sam interjected, perking up at the news. 'You have the genes to hopefully manipulate Sarayah's movements to get the timing just right, and you're a stranger. She'll have no reason to suspect anything. You won't even need a disguise.'

'Although a Scotsman appearing in the middle of Afghanistan might strike her as a little odd,' Carson suggested, his brows knitting at the thought.

'Not necessarily. Sarayah isn't familiar with everything about Earth and its various cultures; she might not appreciate how out of place you are,' Carter explained, and although McKay wanted to disagree, he figured she could be right. 'Besides, since you're a doctor and we have troops out there, you could just be working out in the field.'

'Oh, right...if you put it that way...well, I think I owe it to Colonel O'Neill to make this plan work...if I can.'

'Then this mission has a go,' Hammond announced. 'SG-1, take good care of Dr Beckett and ensure he returns to carry out the work we need him to help with after this operation is a success.'

'Ever the optimist,' Rodney muttered, as he gathered up his things and followed the others from the room. He'd never been out on the Prometheus before, and was excited at the prospect of seeing this wonderful piece of technology he'd been hearing so much about...though the whole ring transporter thing left him feeling a little uneasy. Still, he couldn't help thinking that using it would be a cake-walk compared to what Beckett had just volunteered to do. He wondered if the medic leaned toward stupid, just like O'Neill had said he did. No, he figured not. The man had seen Sarayah's handy work now. Putting himself up against her despite that had to be an act of bravery.

And if their latest tracking information was up to date, he would be right there in Afghanistan hiding behind the biggest boulder around and cheering him on.

oooOOOooo

With no idea how long he'd been wandering, Sheppard collapsed in the dust and considered just staying there. He was desperately thirsty, but with no water or help in sight there wasn't a damn thing he could do to quench it.

He sat on the mountainside thinking about his options, figuring they amounted to death here or maybe a hundred yards away if he put some effort into it, then he heard Ugly's mournful cry once again. The creature was still following, watching the life and blood literally ebb out of him.

'You know, you could show a bit more restraint!' he croaked, 'Just hang back a little until I'm gone, will ya?'

The bird's head twitched, and it eyed him sideways on. Apparently, the mangy-looking critter wasn't going anywhere. This bird figured the meal he was tracking was a done deal. Sheppard glared back at it, but in some ways found its presence less repulsive than it had seemed when first stalking him. This thing needed food, no other emotions drove it. It wasn't out to kill him just to make the most of an opportunity presented. It was following its basest instincts. He couldn't blame it for that.

Though his body hurt so much he feared he might pass out if he moved again, Sheppard decided he wasn't ready to give up just yet. He was working his way down to ground level, and if he made it there was a road down there. Once on it he hoped someone might pass by and take pity on him...that or put a bullet through his head and end things quicker. Either way was putting a positive spin on things. He might just end up in Taliban hands again, living out whatever hours were left in him in agonising interrogations. Great, now the paranoia was back again! He really didn't need that on top of everything else he was dealing with.

Sheppard peered up ay his hungry companion again. 'Sorry to disappoint you, pal, but I'm not ready to die just yet,' he grunted, forcing himself back up to his feet, giving a muted scream through his gritted teeth as he did so. He wrapped his left arm around his midriff, not entirely certain his skin wasn't about to split open and let his innards spill out, though his logical mind told him the whip hadn't scored his flesh that deeply. Once he'd got a handle on his pain, he added, 'I gotta get out of here 'cos I'm the only one who can stop that crazy bitch shooting my wife...again. You're just gonna have to get your food some place else today.'

Ugly just tilted his head a little more and blinked, offering no opinion on his optimism.

He started downwards again, the gritty earth slipping from beneath his feet as he went until eventually he picked up too much momentum and started falling, rolling down the last stretch of bank and ending up in a heap at the bottom of it.

'Oh yeah...that helped,' he groaned, hardly daring to move for the first couple of seconds. But he knew the longer he sat there, the less chance he had of reaching help, so he rolled onto his back and gave himself a few seconds longer to prepare himself for the agony of rising, then set his jaw and went for it. Once again, he ended up suppressing a scream in his throat, but he was upright...and if he was upright, he still had a chance of avoiding becoming Ugly's dinner.

After that each step took more effort than he thought himself capable of, but at least on the flatter road the going was easier than the descent had been. What he wouldn't give for one of those bottles of water Sarayah had forced on him over the past few days now. And then he started thinking about Sarayah herself, wondering where she was now. With any luck the realisation she couldn't set her problems straight by taking it out of his ass had sent her over the edge and she'd done the whole world a favour by imploding...or exploding, he wasn't fussy which, just so long as she wasn't here with him.

The skin on the back of his neck prickled, and he stopped and checked over his shoulder. As if he could see her if she wanted to lurk unseen anyway. She'd been all over him at the SGC and he hadn't seen a thing. Then he thought of that kiss and his moment of weakness, cringing at the memory of actually considering Sarayah as a potential partner for even the tiny amount of time that he'd let that thought form. None of which was helping now, and he cursed himself letting his imagination take him there. She wasn't here anymore; she'd left him to die and gone off to find some other poor unsuspecting guy to harass. Jeez, no! That didn't even bear thinking about. He wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy. But he knew she wouldn't bother with anyone else because no one else had ruined her life and got inside her head like he had...so was she really gone if he'd affected her that deeply?

His paranoia had caused him to stagger to a halt. He squinted up at the sun, attempting to lift his hand to shield his eyes, but the movement pulled at his injuries and so was swiftly abandoned. From the height of the sun's glaring light he guessed it was now past midday, but not much. This heat wasn't going away any time soon, so whether he liked it or not, he was going to have to press on now because if he tried to wait it out, he was likely to die of dehydration before he got anywhere. And no, he told himself, Sarayah was not hovering around and waiting to pounce. If she had been, she would have done it by now, drawn to his battered body like a shark to blood in the water.

Ugly flew past him overhead, his shadow giving just momentary shade before he rode the thermals until landing in a tree just further up the road. It was no more than a few hundred yards away, but it might have well have been a mile the way Sheppard felt. Still, he decided to use it as a milestone on his journey, a marker to reach before setting himself his next target. An insurmountable problem should be broken down into manageable chunks. If he made it to the tree, he could choose another new target from there.

And so it continued, Ugly helpfully choosing his next aim whenever he got close to him. For all his unthinkable portent, the damn vulture was the only thing keeping him going...well, that and the thought of saving Nancy.

Then, out of the sweltering heat distortions rippling up from the road behind him, a truck came into view. At first, he thought it might be a mirage, or wishful thinking from a brain still recovering from its alcohol and morphine induced bad trip. It took a few seconds longer to realise the truck was as real as he was. Knowing this was most likely his one and only chance of getting to help, Sheppard fought down his natural urge to hide out, and began flagging it down as best he could, holding his stomach to try to stop the worst of the pulling, as he made a slowing gesture to ask the driver to stop. He half expect the truck to go right on by...he had to look pretty freaky right now, covered in blood and barely able to stand up, but to his amazement he heard it slowing down and it came to a halt just a few feet away from him.

The driver stared out the window at him, still clutching the steering wheel tightly.

Sheppard stumbled up to the passenger door and yanked it open. 'Hey, thanks for stopping,' he said, forcing on a smile.

Initially the man didn't respond, not even turning his head toward him.

'You speak any English?' Sheppard probed.

Now the man's head snapped around his way, his brown eyes round and filled with panic. He began to jibber in his native tongue, so fast and incomprehensible that Sheppard could barely pick out any words. But the one he did understand was "help", which he took as a good sign. He hauled himself into the cab and slumped into the seat, the man still rambling beside him. _Okay, I get it,_ Sheppard thought, holding up a hand to placate his rescuer. _It's dangerous to be seen picking me up, so let's go. _To the man, he simply said, 'Drive...please.'

He clearly understood that much English, because he turned back to face the road and set off, just as he'd asked him to.

Sheppard watched out the window as they passed Ugly, giving him a salute. Much as the bird had planned to feast on his entrails, he had helped him to keep going as long as he had. He actually felt a little sorry for the bird that his patience had been rewarded with total failure and an empty stomach. Letting his head fall back against the seat, Sheppard allowed himself a moment to enjoy the relative comfort offered by the creaky old truck, although air-con wouldn't have gone amiss right then. Though he wanted to stay awake and try to make the man understand he needed to get to an allied forces base or better still a military infirmary, he felt the undeniable tug of sleep and it was too strong to resist. They were out in the middle of nowhere; just a few minutes rest wouldn't hurt. He could make his needs understood later when they got nearer to the next town. His mind began to wander to abstract thoughts, weird disjointed images firing through his exhausted brain as it began to shut down all but essential services.

'So, John...I've been thinking...'

Sheppard cracked his eyes open, wondering if he'd imagined that in his half-asleep state. But the man was looking at him as if expecting a response, so he had to have said something. Sheppard blinked at him, realising the driver had said that comment in perfect English, though heavily accented, and he'd thought the guy didn't even speak his language. Then he realised something else.

'How do you know my name?' he demanded, suddenly alert again.

The truck sped up as his driver increased the pressure on the gas pedal. 'Oh, come on now, John. I know you're smarter than that. You work it out.'

The driver turned and gave him a smirk that told him just who exactly was in control of the vehicle now.

'Oh crap!' he breathed, reaching for the release catch on the door and trying to throw himself out with no regard for the speed they were now attaining.

Something grabbed his arm and stopped him spilling out, the touch not gripping his skin but the bone itself, causing him agonies on top of his agonies. When he looked, Sarayah's arm had exited the driver's body to catch hold of him, and now the driver's free arm, the one limb he had control of, was frantically beating and tearing at his own body as if trying to rip her out. Despite that, his head turned Sheppard's way and gave him a cool stare. 'I'm sorry, John. I can't let you do that. You see, I need you. You're still vital to my plans...now even more than you ever were.'

And then a strange tingling heat spread through him and they were out of the truck and soaring, flying above the peaks of the mountains until he managed to sway her thoughts and force her to release him so he landed with a solid thump on a craggy plateau far above ground level again. When he lifted his head he saw the four stakes in the ground he'd been taped to, the whip and his splatters of blood staining the dust nearby. All that struggling, all that effort, and he was quite literally back to square one.

'You have got to be kidding!' He dropped his head back into the dirt and did his damnedest not to cry, the sense of frustration and futility almost too much to cope with.

'As I was saying before you tried that foolish stunt,' Sarayah continued, crunching through the dirt beside him, her boots eventually coming to a standstill next to his head, 'I've been thinking, and you're wrong, dying isn't the only way I can end my pain. You lied to me again, didn't you, John? Because you have the power to change our future and you knew that. You're the key to all this. You could go through and make sure I don't lose my hand.'

'Sure...I'll make sure you don't come back to Earth...I have no problem with that,' he told her...and he didn't because he had every intention of making sure that didn't happen.

She squatted beside him, peering at him. 'I'm actually quite impressed. You played a clever game there, John. You almost had me convinced that taking my life was the only way out of this. I think you've matured in these past few days we've spent together. You're more like the Sheppard I used to know, the one who understood threats and brute force would get him nowhere. But the trouble is, now you've learned how to play the game, I can't trust you to change the future in the way I need you to. Not coming back here is one thing, but I know enough about how I got here from you to know that's not the same time I lost my hand. So, if you don't mind, when you go through the Ring of the Ancestors to the Pegasus galaxy, I'll be travelling with you.' He lifted his head a little to tell her what he thought of that, only to have her grab his hair and lift it higher. 'Got something to say?'

He would have spat right in her face if he'd had the saliva to do it. Instead, he settled for croaking, 'In your dreams, freak!'

She just laughed, tightening her grip on his hair and straining it at the roots. 'Oh, you have no idea how true those words are,' she chuckled, her eyes sparkling. 'I have dreamt of controlling you entirely for so long, and now I have the means to do it.'

The hand holding his hair now began sinking into his head, the heat of her invasion almost frying his brain.

'No!' he groaned, channelling all his energy into forcing her back out again. It seemed to work, because she advanced no further and ended up withdrawing her hand altogether...which she then used to punch him.

Now, his mouth was full of blood again. He'd lost count of how many times that had happened lately, but he was getting sick of the taste. She tried to infiltrate his body again while he was stunned, but he wasn't that out of it, feeling the uncomfortable tingling heat and focusing on blocking her again.

After a battle of wills, she pulled back, kicking him over onto his back and drawing a gun, pressing it to his forehead. 'You know, I don't actually need you to be alive to take over and animate your body,' she growled, that trademark cruel smirk twisting her features.

He panted for a few seconds, not daring to move, letting the pain of the movement she'd instigated die down before reacting. 'Go ahead, but I think people might notice something's wrong if you show up with a hole in your forehead...especially when you start rotting in a few days.'

She tilted her head, obviously giving that some consideration. For a moment he thought she might say she didn't care and ventilate his brains, but then he felt the pressure on his forehead ease, the barrel shoved up under his chin instead. 'True. Maybe I should just try out a little brain surgery instead...make you more compliant. Just like I did with O'Neill.'

His heart sank. So that was who had taken the brunt of her anger after the Laurel debacle. 'Is he...?'

'Dead?' She shrugged. 'I didn't hang around long enough to find out. Suffice to say, if he isn't he'll have one almighty headache right now,' she said, smugness oozing out of her.

'He never did anything to you!'

'HE DISRESPECTED ME!' she shouted, shoving that gun a little harder up under his jaw. 'He threatened me with a lunatic asylum if I didn't give him information. Do you call that nothing?'

Sheppard considered staying quiet on that one, figuring silence was his best friend right now, but the injustice of her logic meant he couldn't hold his tongue. 'He was doing his job, just like I was when I came to your planet...I mean, when I go to your planet.'

'Then the two of you should consider a change of career.'

'You know, this whole men-hating thing is starting to get really old,' he challenged. 'Get help and get over it already...you're in our world now and you can't keep treating people like this.'

She laughed, standing up straight and stamping a foot on his chest, making him scream far louder than he was proud of. She deliberately twisted her boot on his blood-soaked torn white T-shirt, setting him squirming and yelling out several words that turned the air blue. 'And who's going to stop me, John? You?'

He wanted to say yes, he wanted that more than he'd ever wanted anything in the world, but she had him beat and they both knew it. Anything he said to her was just so much hot air.

'So how long do you think you can hold out, John?' she asked, casually twirling the gun on her index finger as she looked down on him. 'You're exhausted, bleeding, dehydrated, probably developing an infection in those injuries. Eventually sickness and fatigue are going to take their toll and you'll lose consciousness. Then I'll just move right in and take over.'

He struggled to force her foot off him, meeting with the usual problem until he finally concentrated enough to get her to stop melting away and grabbed her foot, tipping her off balance and setting her on her butt in the dust.

Furious, she kicked him, then drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest, watching him as he struggled up into a sitting position himself. Even that small movement was enough to make him almost pass out. But he couldn't lose consciousness now. If he did and she got inside him and made herself at home he might never get her out again.

'You try another trick like that and I'll shoot your legs from under you,' she growled, aiming the gun his way again.

'Go ahead...won't feel much worse than I already do,' he muttered, pulling his shirt away from the fresh blood on his skin.

'Oh, you think not?' she smiled, a cruel twinkle lighting her eyes. 'I imagine you might just change your mind if I do this.'

She fired the gun, the bullet biting into the dirt just an inch from his right foot. He jumped at the sound, a tiny cloud of dust rising near him.

'Oh, dear. I missed.' She did it again, this time only half an inch from his other boot.

'Okay, okay, I get the message!' he told her, the shock of the second shot and its proximity setting him trembling. She wasn't above shooting him to make him comply...he knew that from his visions.

She looked pleased with his terrified reaction, starting a slow crawl towards him as he tried to shuffle back and keep the distance between them. 'So if you don't want me to shoot you, you'll give up without a fight?' she asked, those dark eyes of hers burning bright with excitement.

'I will _never _stop fighting you,' he assured her, wincing as his efforts pulled on his shredded skin.

She paused in her advance, a wide grin splitting her face. 'I was hoping you'd say that.' And with a rush she was on him, then in him, his body overwhelmed by her burning, tingling presence as she bowled him head over heels with the force of her entry.

He lay sprawled and stunned, an unnatural stirring inside him leaving him feeling like he might hurl. For a moment or two he felt unable to act, winded and agonised as his body felt, but then he realised if he didn't fight as he'd promised her he would this might be the last conscious thought he had. He thought about getting her out of him, thought about the sight of her energy leaving his body, focused every ounce of his strength that remained on pushing her back, casting her out and keeping her out. He sensed her anger building, felt pain as she literally clawed to gain purchase as her hold on him slipped. But she couldn't reform in any effective way because she knew it would kill him...and she needed him alive, as much as the fact pained her to admit.

With a dragging sensation that felt like he might be being turned inside out, Sarayah's energy came falling back out of him, her form reassembling and sliding back across the loose, dusty soil on that rocky ground. Oh, that couldn't be good.

She sat a moment, clearly surprised to be back out on solid ground, then lifted her furious gaze to his. 'That was a mistake, John. You need to remember who has the power here.'

'Well, apparently you're not as "all-powerful" as you thought,' he panted, rising up to stand rather shakily before her. Just his increased height gave him a psychological boost, sick as he was of being stepped on by her.

Unfortunately the psychology had no impact at all on his captor. 'Oh, I haven't even started yet, John,' she warned, eyeing him salaciously as she began to walk a slow circle around him. 'Come on, John. Wouldn't you prefer me to take over your body than anyone else's? I you leave me loose out here, how will you ever know who you can trust. Every injured troop you rescue, every new friend you make, every woman you ever try to get close to...I might be any one of them. Can you face the idea of spending the rest of your life questioning everyone's intentions?'

That thought creeped him out more than anything she'd done to him so far. He would spend the rest of his life just waiting for her to show up and torture him. She could spend the rest of his life tormenting his every waking moment...his every sleeping moment, too. She wasn't limited by the purely physical world, after all.

In his moment of distraction she launched for him again, the force of her invasion once again sending him flying back and thudding in the dirt. He scrambled to his hands and knees, retching at the unnatural sensations awakening inside him. He could see her thoughts, feel her rage, see everything she'd ever done to any person she'd ever met all in an instant, including every meeting that lay ahead for the both of them. It was sensory overload, and his mind almost blacked out, his vision tunnelling as he struggled to breathe, the pressure in his body focused on his lungs just as it had been in the SGC. She was trying to render him unconscious so she could take over...he had to get her out before she succeeded.

So he thought the words that always cause a reaction, _Go to hell!_

He felt her shudder, but she didn't leave his body, the respite on his lungs only brief. Of course not...this was hell for him now. But the words had still tangibly weakened her grip, so he thought them again, along with the words get out, and once again he felt the weird separation as her energy was forcibly ejected from his body.

She flew out with incredible pace, reforming and rolling across the ground and thumping into a boulder that knocked the wind from her with a gasp. It brought him a small sense of satisfaction to see her hurt, but it was short lived. The cold realisation that he couldn't keep this up indefinitely hit hard as he struggled to his feet again. If she got inside him and took him back to the SGC and eventually to Atlantis, who knew what havoc she could wreak in his name? Oh, she'd have her recompense, all right. She could make him do anything to anyone, and he would be in there, powerless to stop her.

When he surfaced from his thoughts she was already on her feet and running, this time choosing not to disperse into the air but to slam into him, shouldering him back and slamming him against some rocks, the pain of the collision leaving him shaken and too weak to stand. He crumpled to the floor, left staring at her boots once again. God, he hated the way she made him feel so small.

She squatted down in front of him, reaching out to stroke his hair back from his perspiration soaked forehead. 'So young and foolish,' she purred, sliding the back of her fingers down the plane of his cheek, 'and so very beautiful. Since the moment I set eyes on you on Medulsa I've dreamt of nothing but possessing you entirely, and now I'm going to finally achieve it. Oh, you can fight all you want, but you know I'll get inside you and stay in there eventually. It's only a matter of time.' She slid her fingers down his neck, over his racing pulse, and then up the back of his neck where she grasped him tight and pulled his face in close to hers. 'I'm going to enjoy this very much, John,' she whispered, allowing her lips to brush against his as she spoke. 'You have no idea how much.'

He closed his eyes tight shut, anticipating the kiss, the sensation every bit as revolting as he knew it would be. But this time along with it came the blast of energy rushing into him as she used the contact to take over his body once more, her cells coupling with his, filling him up from head to toe and invading every atom of his being.

All he could do was throw his head back and scream to the sky above, his anguished cry echoing back from the mountains around him as if mocking his meagre rebellion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh...poop! She's back with a new plan and it seems like it's working. Now would be a really good time for a rescue, don't you think?**

**Thanks to everyone still reading and reviewing. Hasn't this woman driven you all crazy enough yet? lol :)**


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

Sarayah looked out on the world through new eyes, amazed by the sense of perspective she gained – the insight...the crippling pain. She groaned, hearing Sheppard's voice slip from unfamiliar lips, but that was all she could do. For the moment the pain rendered her motionless. It would take time to get used to it, but get used to it she must if she was to see her plan through. Once she had a better handle on things, she would sweep Sheppard's battered body to some nearby hospital, from where he would eventually make it back home and to Stargate Command. And from there, the future was hers to decide.

Gritting her teeth – his teeth – she lifted her right arm, flexing the hand. Two hands...she possessed two hands again. No, she didn't only possess two hands, she possessed John Sheppard. That was worth any amount of discomfort, although she had to admit a certain degree of admiration that he'd made it so far down the track to help and then found the strength from somewhere to fight her while bearing all this.

For now he was quiet, shocked, his emotions a broil of anger, fear and utter desperation. At the root of it all was his inability to accept that he'd lost. He still believed he could do something to make a difference. Well, he could believe what he liked. Now she was in there, she wasn't leaving his body until she was good and ready.

Having now developed a certain amount of acceptance of his pain, Sarayah set her mind to deciding the best way to get him to help. She knew the location of Role 3, but she couldn't exactly just appear in the middle of a ward and demand assistance. But perhaps a mile away, far enough for her mode of transport to go unnoticed. She could surely force one more mile out of his sorry carcass.

_I'm not going anywhere, _Sheppard told her, finally breaking out of his catatonic silence.

She smiles, the movement odd because his smile was so different from hers. Not a word for over an hour and his first word were defiant. How typically John Sheppard. 'Now, John, you know who has control of this body now. Try to move and see what happens,' she challenged.

She felt his frustration rise, sensed tension in his legs as he tried to command them to help him stand, but the body remained exactly where she wanted it to be.

'You see, I make the decisions for you now,' she told him. 'And we're going to Role 3 infirmary.'

She attempted to stand herself now, finding his body rigid and resistant to any movement. _So, what was that you were saying? _he asked her.

That was all right...she didn't need to stand to do what she planned to do. So instead she tried to think herself away toward Role 3, but other than a slight tremor in the cells of her host's body, she had no affect on him at all.

'John...don't be foolish,' she hissed.

_You're not taking this body anywhere while I still have anything to do with it._

Sarayah relished a challenge, but even she was tiring of his rebellion now. 'Why won't you just give up, John? You know I'm the stronger of the two of us. Eventually, you will succumb entirely to my will.'

She attempted to stand again, but still found she couldn't. He was trying to force her to leave, to exit his body to punish it more, but if she got out, she might not get back in again...she wasn't about to relinquish her grip on him just yet.

'We need to get you to help or you'll die, John,' she said, laying the facts out straight for him. 'Let me do that much before refusing my control.'

_And after that? Then what? You infiltrate Stargate Command and go to Atlantis to change our destinies? Somehow, I doubt I'm gonna like the future you have in mind for me._

'Oh, but I have wonderful plans for you,' Sarayah assured him. 'You're going to take me home to Medulsa, where I'll reveal myself to the Sarayah now dwelling there and make you her pet...as long as she promises to share...'

She felt the revulsion ripple through him, and she laughed, _his_ voice laughing at his own horror. For that second he let go of his relentless grip on motor control and she managed to move him, just up into an upright position on his feet, but it was a start. His frustration that she'd got that far was palpable and made that minor victory all the sweeter for its intensity.

'That's right, John, I made the first move. And now, I will drag your wretched body to a hospital one step at a time if I have to.'

She raised his right leg, as heavy as lead, and slammed the foot down, managing one more step, but the effect that single movement had on his state of mind was far more profound. Inside his head he screamed a cry so bitter, so agonised, it sent a thrill right through her. Much as he was reluctant to accept defeat, that cry told her he knew he was beaten. So she tormented him more as she took a further staggering step, forcing his mind to conjure images of what his incarceration would be like the next time he made his initial visit to Medulsa.

And now she felt nauseous to add to all her other aches and pains. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea after all.

oooOOOooo

Rodney puffed and panted his way up the craggy slope behind what remained of SG-1, Major Lorne and his team, and with Carson and his heavy medical kit only just ahead of him. Though they'd suggested he leave it on board the Prometheus, he'd insisted he carry it with him, and that way he could tend any injuries the major had suffered the moment he could lay hands on him.

As they crested the rise, crawling low on their stomachs, Carter gave a signal for them to hold, surveying the scene ahead of them through her field binoculars.

'I can see Major Sheppard, but there's no sign of Sarayah,' she reported, keeping the glasses up to her eyes. 'What's the latest tracking information, McKay?'

McKay heaved out his tablet and checked it again, even though they'd only done it around two minutes ago. 'No other movements since she took several of the world's shortest trips about five minutes ago. She should be here.'

Daniel also pulled out his binoculars and assessed the scene. 'What's John doing?'

Rodney could only just see Sheppard, who had his back to them, but he appeared to be swaying rather bizarrely and trying to walk. 'Is he hurt?' he asked.

'It would appear something is wrong,' Teal'c concurred.

'But where's Sarayah?' Daniel asked.

'She could have headed out on foot,' Carter suggested.

'Why would she?' Rodney snorted. 'She has the ability to instantaneously travel anywhere on the planet...perhaps further, but no, maybe she felt the need for a spot of exercise.'

Carter threw him a look that suggested he should shut up or she would shut him up, and he backed down from the banter. But it really didn't make sense; the scans said she should be there, why would she just walk away and leave Sheppard behind?

The major turned and swayed some more, falling to his knees, then tipping forward onto his hands.

'Well, whatever's wrong with him, he clearly needs help,' Carson whispered. 'Maybe I should go over there and find out what's ailing him.'

'Negative, Dr Beckett,' Carter immediately responded. 'He's not in any immediate danger. I recommend we keep watch and try to ascertain Sarayah's position before moving in.'

Rodney heard Carson sigh and could feel his disappointment at being refused the opportunity to tend the major. He watched Sheppard stagger back to his feet again, turning toward them this time as he struggled to walk. Now even without binoculars, Rodney could see the man's shirt was stained deep crimson.

'Oh, dear God!' Carson breathed beside him. 'Major Carter, I understand your desire to delay moving in, but that man needs medical attention now.'

'Hold your position, Dr Beckett...McKay, anything on your scans?' she asked him.

'No, nothing. I would have told you if there was,' he squeaked, insulted that she'd asked again. Did she think he was so stupid that he wouldn't alert her if Sarayah showed up on his radar?

'This is ridiculous, Major. You brought me out here to help this man and now you won't let me do that,' Carson protested.

'No, Dr Beckett, our primary goal is to apprehend Sarayah and rescue Major Sheppard if at all possible. Now hold your position and stay quiet.'

Rodney sensed Sam wasn't entirely happy with the order she'd given Beckett, but she was following orders herself and had to keep him under control. They needed the man once all this was over. Out of everyone there, he was the one who might be able to return Sarayah to her original state. Not that Rodney actually gave a damn about that. As far as he was concerned she could end up as a bucket of goo as long as they retrieved that 'gate from her physiological makeup.

Across on the plateau, Sheppard spilled to his knees again, and Beckett dropped his head, unable to watch any longer. 'This is intolerable,' he muttered, shaking his head.

Daniel reached over and laid his hand on Beckett's shoulder. 'Just give it a while longer. We have to know it's safe before we allow you over there,' he said softly, trying to sooth the medic's obviously frayed nerves.

Rodney watched the major a while, beginning to understand a little of how Beckett felt. He would be no use to the man anyway of he went over there, and even he felt frustrated that he couldn't go and help. All they could do was watch and wait. Sarayah had to be around somewhere, and they couldn't blow this chance to apprehend her because of an attack of compassion.

oooOOOooo

Sheppard stared at the sandy dust beneath his hands and knees, gasping for breath. Everything inside him felt crowded...out of line...alien. He could barely catch his breath, and yet this crazy bitch thought she could somehow force him to walk to help. Well, no way. If dying out here meant she didn't get to the SGC to wreak God only knew what havoc in his name, then so be it. Except dying out here meant it would start all over again and he wouldn't save Nancy from being shot...which he obviously didn't because Sarayah was here, now, and he still remembered the shooting. The whole timeline thing was making his head spin...that and a distinct lack of oxygen. There wasn't enough room in his body for the both of them. One of them had to go, and he didn't plan on it being him.

'Cosy isn't it, John?' he heard his voice tease. 'I could definitely get used to this.'

Now that was just insulting. They were in his body and she was poking fun at him using his own vocal cords. He had to get control back.

'Not going to happen, John. I'm here for the duration,' he heard himself say.

_We'll see about that, _he challenged, trying to will her out of his body. Although he felt a slight tingle, it was nothing like as strong as the sensation he'd got used to in their travels. She wasn't going anywhere just yet.

'Don't make this harder than it has to be, John. You're already hurt, but I can still cause more damage if I have to to get you moving.'

He laughed, his mental response echoing around his brain cavity. _You won't do that. I can tell you're not enjoying the pain already. You're not likely to make it worse._

'You really don't know me at all, do you, John?' she taunted . 'I'll withstand any pains and punishments if it means defeating you.'

He felt pain then like knives digging into his innards...he couldn't even tell where because it seemed to spread throughout his whole torso at once. He screamed inside his head, and she screamed too, the sound bursting out of his mouth and echoing back from the mountains around them.

She stopped whatever she was doing and left his body panting, though he couldn't exactly claim ownership of the breathlessness. Though he felt it, he also felt somehow slightly detached...crowded out of his own body.

'Now,' she panted in his voice. 'How about we transport to a hospital?'

_It's gonna take more than that!_

He instantly regretted the challenge when his intestines began to contort as if being knotted, the pain growing to a crescendo that, if he hadn't already been on his knees, would have floored him.

More screaming, both his and hers via his mouth rang out again, and even though it was cripplingly painful she kept it up for longer this time. He could feel tears streaking down his cheeks by the time she released him, and cold sweat beading all over his skin.

'Again, John?' she asked.

_No!_ Not yet. He needed time to recover, and even though that wasn't a thought he tried to deliberately voice to her, she knew it as sure as she knew her own mind. This time the pain was in his back, as if she was jabbing needles into all the nerves of his spine. His body jerked involuntarily, for the moment neither for them in control of movement, and then he fell face first to the ground, the gritty dirt grazing his cheekbone and leaving it throbbing as the other pain subsided.

Then, weakened by her assaults, he felt himself begin to move, pushing up to his hands and knees again and then clambering to his feet.

'Ready to go now, John?' she asked, stumping forward a few steps before he re-instigated his hold on the situation.

His body swayed as she tried to force him onward, but his feet remained firmly rooted. Once again, he battled to force her to leave, but he could feel his resolve weakening, something she was no doubt well aware of, too. He couldn't keep this up...she was going to win and he would be trapped in that body with her until she'd done whatever she wanted with him.

'John...' she warned, the weird tone of his voice so alien it made him shudder. He didn't like speaking like her, and he liked sharing his body with her even less. If he'd had a gun he'd have shot himself there and then just to wreck her plans. Of course, the only gun they had was dematerialised and inside him along with her...oh, great, so if she chose to she could shoot him from the inside?

Anger making him strong again, Sheppard fought back one more time, feeling the mental tussle, the strain, as he forced her down and took control of his motor functions. He could do this...he just had to concentrate.

'Get out of me!' he ground out, mastering his voice again.

_Not likely...not when I can do this._

Sheppard had no idea what she was doing, but it suddenly felt as if his whole body was burning up, his insides being bombarded by heat and vibration. The sensation left him staggering again, his legs turning to rubber beneath him, and still his internal temperature was rising. He dropped to one knee, his vision swimming in and out of focus, sweat now dripping from his chin down to his blood-stained and torn shirt.

'Stop...doing...that!' he gasped, but his protest had no affect – the heat just kept right on building.

_I'm sorry, John, but you've brought this on yourself. One of us has to give up control, and it isn't going to be me._

Though determined to fight, he felt his body begin to convulse, the heat sending him into seizures. He stumbled back, finding no ground behind his heels, and though even Sarayah panicked at the sensation, there was nothing either of them could do about it. He pitched backwards, still fitting as he fell over the edge of the precipice...

oooOOOooo

'Oh, my God! He fell!' McKay gasped.

Carson lifted his head to see Sheppard hit a lower level of the mountain some twenty-five to thirty feet below the one he'd been originally standing on.

'That's it!' he said, grabbing his pack and swinging it onto his back. 'I'm going over there.'

'We still don't know where Sarayah is!' the scientist shrieked, though keeping it a level that couldn't carry too far.

'Well, all I know is we've been sitting here for twenty minutes and we haven't seen her yet. Meanwhile, Major Sheppard is quite clearly suffering while we worry about our own skins. Well, I've waited plenty long enough. I'm going over there to see if there anything left of the poor bugger to put back together. And since he's effectively the bait in your bloody trap, I suggest you let me get on with it!'

Finally, Sam conceded to his insistence. 'Okay. You have the containment device to hand for when you get over there?'

'Yes...it's at the very top of my pack, and the remote's here,' he patted the breast pocket of his shirt. 'If I see her, I know what to do.'

'Remember, if it works, the three lights on top will flash green. If they're not flashing after you activate it, get yourself out of there,' Carter warned him.

'No lights, run like fury,' he nodded. 'I've got that.'

Sam gave a sharp nod. 'Okay, Dr Beckett. You have a go...and good luck.'

'I have a feeling I'm going to need a lot more than luck to help that young man!' he sighed, sliding down the gritty bank they were sitting on on his backside and then heading out across the no-man's-land between their position and where the major had fallen.

Tugging his fishing hat lower over his eyes for shade, he jogged across the sandy soil as fast as his burden would allow him to, very aware of the noise each step made. If Sarayah was there somewhere, she would certainly hear him coming. He could only hope she'd fall for his cover story of working for Medecins Sans Frontieres in the area and just happening to see the major fall. At least that fall gave him a valid reason to approach he hadn't known he would have.

To his relief, he thought he could see some movement in the fallen man. If he still had a pulse, there was a chance to fix him up again. As long as this Sarayah woman didn't get in the way of things...

oooOOOooo

Coming back to a vague sense of consciousness, the first thing Sheppard became aware of was a dull throb in his upper right arm...not that it remained dull for long. Within seconds it built from a nagging ache to sheer, raw nerve pain as he became more aware of his surroundings. He was on his back and staring up at a drop several times his own height. That couldn't be good. Though he barely dared to look, he slid his gaze in the direction of his arm and saw blood soaking through the sleeve of his T-shirt, the arm itself bent at an awkward angle in the region masked by the blood-soaked material. The sight made Sarayah scream out in frustration.

'I only just got the use of two arms back...and now look!'

Great, so she had control of his voice again? But he was still hanging in there...she hadn't won out yet.

He felt his body move without any conscious instruction from himself, igniting pains in his back and pelvis. _Just stay still! _he told her. _You're making things worse._

'No, you and your stubborn refusal to let me take you to help are making this worse,' she grunted, the strain of the pain altering the pitch of his voice an octave higher.

_If you don't like how it feels, you can always get out, _he suggested. He'd already sensed her intense dislike of the physical discomfort he was bearing. Could this be enough to tip the balance in his favour?

'If you can take this, so can I,' she insisted, but her uncertainty was there for him to feel, as real as his own certainty that he wouldn't give up until he'd breathed his last. She had to feel that in him, too. That had to be disheartening for her, didn't it?

She tried to move him again, crying out this time, just as he did locked in there with her. He felt the need to take deep breaths to ride out the cresting pain, but he still felt too "full" to inflate is lungs. Instead, shock set in, leaving him trembling and panting and in danger of hyperventilating himself into unconsciousness again. He felt like begging her to get out, a fleeting thought he hoped she'd missed, but that was doubtful; she rarely missed anything.

'Hello!' a voice called, seemingly from nowhere.

He froze bar the trembling. Had he really heard that, or was he just having auditory hallucinations to add to his experience? Maybe his mind had snapped under the strain of having two consciousnesses in there. But the word was then followed by the sound of someone moving, scrambling up to his level and a few seconds later, a head peaked over the ridge.

'Hello, son. Try not to move, okay?'

Inside, Sheppard laughed at the irony of the man's choice of words. With Sarayah in the driving seat he couldn't move even if he wanted to.

Somewhere in there with him, he heard a hiss like a threatened wild animal warding off an intruder. Was that her? Seriously, she got weirder with every passing second...

'My name's Carson...Carson Beckett, and I'm a doctor. I'm going to give you a quick examination and see if I can't make you more comfortable before we move you.'

_We? _The same thought formed in Sarayah's mind as he focused on that word. So he wasn't alone?

'Let's start with that arm, shall we?'

The man's soft Scottish brogue should have been soothing, but Sheppard found himself desperately scared. The man was in danger. No one interfered with Sarayah's plans and got away with it, and on top of that, at the back of his mind, there was a vague sense of recognition of this man, whether that feeling belonged to him or Sarayah he wasn't sure. He wanted to yell at this Carson to get away while he could still hold her, but he couldn't gain control of his voice yet, his injuries and the pain they caused him too distracting for that level of concentration. He felt like he knew this man, as if they'd met, but he couldn't recall when that would have been.

'Now this might hurt a wee bit,' Carson warned him, pulling out some scissors from the medical kit he'd freed from his pack. He began slicing the short sleeve of his T-shirt right up and through the collar to uncover the top of Sheppard's arm, each tug of the blades on the fabric pure agony as he cut through it and pulled the pieces apart.

'Ah, that's a nasty one. I'll need to stabilise that,' Carson told him, setting about rummaging through his kit for what he needed.

Sheppard, or rather Sarayah since she was in control, glanced at the injury, saw the exposed bone, and immediately began to retch. Retching was bad enough, but when someone else was making you do it...that was something else entirely.

'All right, son. Calm yourself. I need to treat this and I need you to keep as still as possible,' Carson said in an even voice, though the knitting of his brows suggested what he was seeing wasn't good. 'Now, I won't lie, this is going to hurt a lot, but once I have this injury cleaned and splinted, it should feel a little better.'

The doctor began his work, the pain reaching unknown levels when he cleaned the broken skin, delicate as he was being. Even the doctor winced along with him as his screams came ripping out of his lungs. Not that they were his screams – that was Sarayah's agony bouncing back from the rock faces. Apparently that was one way he was superior to her; his tolerance for pain was much higher than hers. With any luck, Carson might spook her out of him yet with his unintentionally torturous ministrations.

Once the splint was on, the pain did decrease some, not that Sarayah dared move that arm anyway.

'So...do you have any idea where Sarayah got to?' Carson asked as he began cutting open the front of Sheppard's shirt and peeling the cloth away from his bloodied chest. It pulled where the blood had dried, making her hiss through his teeth.

'Close,' was all she said in reply.

'Well, the minute she's back, we have a plan to catch her,' Carson said, indicating a toaster sized metal box he's set on the floor beside Sheppard's broken arm. 'That's a containment device.'

_Stop! Sheppard cried, _unable to make himself heard. _Don't tell her any more._

'And up here,' Carson continued patted his breast pocket. 'I have the control. What we have to do is try to make her transport, and if I activate this as she dematerialises, this will suck her in and contain her...' He paused thinking about what he'd said. 'Like a hi-tech vacuum cleaner I suppose.'

Sheppard was actually hearing the Ghostbusters tune in his head, but the vacuum cleaner analogy worked, too. Then, over the music, a low, guttural growl rumbled. _Aw crap! Now she's mad. _

_What, no pills to control me this time, Dr Beckett? _she rasped inside his head, though her thoughts were then broken by Carson's cleansing of the bloody lacerations criss-crossing his torso.

That helped Sheppard make the connection. The name had sounded familiar the moment he'd heard it, but he hadn't been able to recall why. Now he remembered Carson had been part of her rantings about people not being able to help her...and something else. Hadn't he been mentioned at the SGC?

_Yes, that's right, John. Carson's one of your Atlantis cronies, _he heard Sarayah hiss._ I never did get a chance to thank him for all his "help". _

Sheppard knew what that meant. He concentrated on stilling his body, refusing to let her budge it.

Carson noticed his sudden rigidity. 'What's wrong, John? Where's it hurting?'

_Let go, John, _Sarayah warned, right before unleashing her annoyance on his insides again. He curled up against it, the unmistakable sensation of nails digging into the walls of his chest, plucking at his ribs, but she couldn't keep it up. This time she was in there with him for the duration, and as he suspected, the pain was too much for her to handle. She stopped and through the pain he was finally able to blurt out the words, 'Inside me!'

Carson was already prepping a syringe. 'Can you be more specific?'

Now he had control of his voice he meant to make the most of it. 'Have...to ...go!'

'And we will...just as soon as I have you stable enough to move,' Carson assured him.

Sheppard watched him squirt a fine spray of liquid out of his needle, then move it towards his arm. 'This is just a little something to take the edge off, Major.'

'No.' Though it hurt like hell to do it, Sheppard reached over and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. 'No drugs...can't sleep.'

'Oh, I don't know...judging by your current condition it might be the best thing for you.'

Sheppard's grip on him remained unrelenting. 'You...have...to...go.'

Now Carson looked puzzled, allowing Sheppard to push his hand away. 'Go without you? Not likely, lad. You need medical help.'

Sarayah was starting to fight back; Sheppard could feel her hold on his body strengthening. 'She's...here,' he gasped, short of breath now as she tried to constrict his lungs again.

Carson looked around, fumbling the control for the device beside them from his pocket. 'Where?' he whispered, voice quaking.

It took more effort this time, but Sheppard forced out the words, 'In...m...me!'

It was clear the doctor finally grasped his meaning. The colour drained from his face. 'Dear God!' He shuffled back a little, but he didn't run, even though he looked like he wanted to. 'It would probably have been better not to tell you the plan then.'

'Minor...hitch.'

'Can you...can you get her out?' Carson asked, holding up the remote, his thumb on the button.

Sheppard closed his eyes, willing the crazy bitch out of him, but she was like a wild cat digging her claws in and holding on for all she was worth. 'Arghh...no,' he gasped, convulsing with the pain again.

'We have a theory, John. Major Carter believes Sarayah has somehow absorbed some kind of experimental Stargate into her body and that's how she does what she does.' When Sheppard jerked against another onslaught from Sarayah, the doctor started, but he still remained to explain, something Sheppard was truly grateful for. 'If she has, we may hold some sway. I believe people like you who have a strong blood connection to the creators of the 'gates, people like me, too, have a mental connection to Ancient technology. Sarayah may be able to control it because it has adapted her systems to absorb it, but I think the two of us might be able to override that control. What say we give it a try, eh?'

Sheppard managed a nod just before what felt like a punch hit in his left kidney region, making him curl up again. Something was seriously wrong with his pelvis...he could feel it every time he moved his legs, but he couldn't stop the involuntary reaction even so.

Carson loaned him a hand to steady him, unravelling his contorted form and holding his shoulder to help him focus. 'We need to think her out of you, son. So are you ready? On the count of three...'

Carson held the remote up in his trembling hand, while Sheppard blinked beads of perspiration from his lashes and tried desperately to maintain command of his body.

'One...two...'

Just a split second before three, Sheppard sensed Sarayah's intentions. She left his body with a rush so powerful it bowled Carson head over heels before he could react.

She reformed sitting on the poor man, battering him with the butt of her gun in a frenzied attack that Carson couldn't defend himself against, the first few blows leaving him too stunned to raise his arms to protect himself. Sensing she'd kill him if she didn't act, Sheppard prepared to fight her again. This was going to hurt like a bitch, but he was the only person close enough to stop her. So he pushed up, refusing to acknowledge the crunching in his hip as he rose, and then threw his full body weight against her as she aimed the gun at Carson's head, dislodging her from the now unconscious Scotsman and rolling in the dust with her until they separated and came to a halt, the gun sliding away and dropping over the edge of the next ledge down.

Sheppard sat wedged against a boulder, the only thing that had stopped him following that gun over the edge. He tried to stand when Sarayah did, swiftly realising his pelvis now had other ideas. He was not standing again any time soon. Her eyes darted to something on the ground just ahead of him, and there, plain as day, was the remote. It lay in the space dividing them, a little closer to him than her, but she had the advantage of a body that still worked. This was a problem...a huge problem.

She started laughing, just a chuckle at first, then a full blown mocking laugh. 'Look at you, John, broken and pathetic. Do you really think you can get to that remote before I can?'

'I'm willing to give it...a try,' he grunted, though he wasn't at all sure he could right at that moment.

A bullet ricocheted off the rocks beside Sarayah's position. The others Carson had mentioned were moving in. She made herself semi-transparent, the next round passing straight through her. She was dispersing; if only he could hit that button...

'Time for us to go, John,' she ordered, moving forward to take him with her.

It was now or never, and since he'd never been one to give up when the end was in sight, he gritted his teeth and threw himself forward, landing on the remote and grabbing it before she could reach him. She immediately solidified, crouching as more bullets whizzed over her head. She threw herself forward too now and grasped his hand, trying to prise it open. 'Give that to me, John, and I'll forget you defied me...again.'

'Gee, that's big of you!'

'If I go in that thing now, you're coming in with me!' she grinned, eyes bright with intent.

She dug in her nails, ripping the skin on his fingers as she clawed at them, but he wouldn't let go. She would have to cut his damned hand off before he would do that...not that he would put that past her. But for this to work, he had to make her let go. Yet with a broken arm and a pelvis that wouldn't support him he was running out of options.

So he bit her hand, and he bit it hard.

His theory about her pain threshold was right. As his teeth drew blood it hurt too much for her to maintain her grip, and when she ripped her hand free he seized the chance provided.

As she howled, tucking her hand under her arm, he yelled, 'Get the hell out of my life!'

There was a momentary shimmer in her form, and that was more than enough sign for him to act. She leapt towards him and he hit the button on the remote, closing his eyes in anticipation of the collision.

It didn't come.

After a few seconds, he dared to crack open his lids and look around. She was nowhere in sight.

He lay there, his shredded chest caked in scratchy dust, his broken arm throbbing like it might just explode and his pelvis unable to even bear his weight, and laughed, a short inane and nervous outburst of disbelief. She was gone. She was actually gone.

Nearby, Carson groaned, clutching his head.

'You okay?' Sheppard called over to him, starting a crawl in his direction, one that had to be abandoned when his pelvis once again crunched in protest.

'W...where is she?' Carson croaked, pushing up onto his elbows, his face bloodied and swollen.

'Contained,' Sheppard replied. '...I think.'

'Bloody hell!' Carson breathed, looking over at the box and grinning with relief. 'How'd you manage that?'

'I guess I'm just the stubborn bastard everyone says I am,' he quipped, dropping his head into the dust.

After that things got kind of hazy.

'John? John?'

He felt hands on him, feeling for a pulse, Carson's soft tones reassuring him. And then other voices were there too, Carter and McKay if he wasn't mistaken, maybe even Daniel and Teal'c, plus other people he didn't know all securing the scene.

He opened his eyes just long enough to get one last look at the metal box now caging Sarayah, three green lights blinking away in its polished surface. She was in there – if she wasn't she'd be scratching his eyes out right now – and she didn't appear to be coming out again. It was finally over.

So, figuring he'd earned a rest now, he closed his eyes and let oblivion claim him, this time knowing no one else would pay the price for his inability to atone.

oooOOOooo

'_I think he's coming round,' Sheppard heard someone say. He thought it sounded like Carter, but his hearing was fading in and out so he couldn't be sure._

_He strained to open his eyes, the lids as reluctant to part as if they'd been stuck together with glue. But he caught glimpses of several faces above him, all of them friendly, and relaxed the rigidity he's felt seize him on waking._

'_All right, son. Take it easy. We need you to keep perfectly still so as not to aggravate any of your injuries,' he heard Carson tell him, feeling hands palpating his abdomen. A sharp pain when they pressed near his right hip made him wince and yell, and hands immediately grasped his shoulders to stop him from folding up._

'_Steady, Major.' That was Carson again, now pressing over to the other side of his abdomen where the pain was considerable but definitely less. 'On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?'_

_Sheppard wanted to yell that it was off the scale, but he was too proud for that. 'About an eight...maybe a nine.'_

'_Bad then? Right, I'll give you a shot of morphine to alleviate that for you.'_

'_No...no...already had morphine,' he gasped, prising open his eyes for just a second or two. He caught a quick glimpse of the containment device lying on the floor behind them, still flashing to show it was occupied. 'So, she's not coming out of that box, right?' he asked, seeking the reassurance he needed that this really was over._

'_It's okay, Major. You don't have to worry about her getting out,' he heard Carter say, as a hand stoked his hair back from his clammy forehead. The touch was gentle and without any seedy undercurrent, so different from anything he'd experienced over the past few days that it immediately soothed him._

_He let his eyes stay shut, tired of battling to keep them open. He was in safe hands now; they'd have a medevac flight out to pick him up in no time._

_A tinny rattling sound rang out as the other chatted. It was quiet, but he heard it all the same._

_He strained his lids apart again, looking toward the containment device. It seemed to be a little closer, but he couldn't get a proper look at it, his lids determined to slide shut again._

'_Just rest, John. Everything's okay now,' Carter told him, stroking his head again._

_He wasn't so sure anymore. 'When can we...get outta here?' he asked, keen to leave the mountains of Kandahar behind him._

'_Soon. Help's on its way, lad,' Carson assured him, and he felt the pressure of fingers on his wrist as the medic took his pulse._

_Something rattled again, and this time he knew it had come from the device. He felt it in his gut. He forced his lids open again long enough to see four fingers breach the outer surface before retracting again._

_He tried to bolt up, but the others held him down. 'Steady...steady...no sudden movements!' Carson chided as they pinned his shoulders to the ground and held his ankles, too._

'_It isn't holding her! She's getting out!' he screamed at them, but they didn't seem concerned._

'_He's delirious...must be that morphine she gave him,' he heard McKay snort._

'_And he reeks of whiskey...I'd recognise that smell anywhere,' Carson added. 'Morphine and alcohol are never a good mix...no wonder he's imagining things.'_

_The box shook and a whole arm burst forth this time, a surge of adrenaline helping Sheppard to open his eyes wide enough to see it clearly now. The box tipped on its side and the hand dragged it a few inches closer._

'_She's coming!' he screamed again, trying to pull free._

'_It's an hallucination, John. Try to stay calm,' Carter reassured him, her upside down smiling face leaning over him while she continued to pin his shoulders to the hard earth beneath him._

_The sound of scraping drew his attention back to the box, just as Sarayah's handless arm and then her head began to emerge, her hair hanging down over her face in bedraggled strands as she glared at him through it. Slowly, very slowly, a grin broke out, broadening as she dragged her trapped lower half along in that box, the scraping of metal on rock adding to his freak-out._

'_She's coming!' he yelled again, and they all looked this time, but no one reacted, no one panicked._

'_The box is fine, Sheppard. Now, would you stop with the kicking before you make yourself even worse!' McKay whined, struggling to hold his right ankle. Sheppard's pelvis hurt like crazy, the sickening sensation of his bones grinding almost too much to bear, but he had to get free. Why couldn't they see what was happening?_

_Sarayah came closer with every passing second. He could hear her heavy breaths as she dragged herself toward him. 'If this is to be my prison, John, then I'm taking you with me,' she hissed, her fingers almost touching his left arm._

_He ripped it free from Carson's grip. 'Get her away from me!'_

_Teal'c grasped his arm now, pinning it back to the ground. 'Please be calm, Major Sheppard. There is no need for you to be alarmed.'_

'_Can't you see her? SHE'S RIGHT THERE!'_

_Sarayah pushed in between Teal'c and McKay, her leering smile twisting her features into a mask of utter madness._

_He tried once more to break free but the hands of his supposed rescuers held him fast. 'Why are you doing this? Let me go!'_

_But they were changing, each one of them, morphing in front of his eyes until every one of them looked like his tormenter. 'You can't go, John,' they said in unison. 'We're meant to be together.'_

_Terror froze him. He was surrounded by her, everywhere he looked. Even those troops gathered in the background watching on bore her face, each one of them enjoying his fear. 'No...please...just let me go!'_

'_We can't do that. It's time to atone, John. At last, it's time to atone.'_

_Her hand reached out and grasped his immobilised arm, the heat sinking into his skin and breaking him apart._

'_NO!'_

When Sheppard woke again it was to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the soft brown eyes of Dr Janet Fraiser. Her hand rested on his arm, a gentle warmth emanating from it as she applied her steadying grip.

'Hey there,' she grinned, laying her hand gently on his shoulder. 'It's nice to have you back.'

'It's nice to be back,' he croaked, clearing his throat.

'You were having a nightmare...the anaesthetic can do that to you sometimes.'

He looked at her, his vision still swimming a little. 'Uh, yeah...I guess.' He found himself studying her face, looking for signs that she really was Janet Fraiser and not his stalker hiding out as she'd threatened to. Thankfully, he found no signs of malice there.

She passed him a cup of water and suggested he took a few sips from the straw in it. 'How're you feeling? Are you comfortable enough?'

He supposed that was all relative. Compared to how he'd felt for the past few days, lying here in the crisp, clean sheets of an SGC infirmary bed was bliss. Sure, he felt like he'd jumped out of a plane without a parachute, but just knowing Sarayah, his own personal Bogey Man, wasn't about to leap out on him and beat him to a pulp made him feel as good as he had done in a long time.

'I'm good,' he assured her, noticing now that his right arm was tightly wrapped in a sling. How long had he been out?

'You're going to be in that for a while, so you'd better get used to it, she told him. 'You had a nasty compound fracture to your humerus we had to pin, along with the stitches we put in the worst of your lacerations. And if you think that was bad, you should have seen the jigsaw puzzle of a pelvis you came in with.'

'Ah, thought it felt funny,' he admitted, seeing her eyes sparkle with amusement.

'Funny? Well that has to be the understatement of the century. We've pinned it back together with metal plates and you'll be in recovery for months. It must have hurt like crazy; how you stood up to Sarayah in the state you were in is beyond me.'

He shrugged, wincing as various pains sparked around his body. 'I wouldn't call it standing exactly...more like crawling.' Janet instantly reacted to his body language, nudging up his pain meds. He felt cool liquid enter his vein via the cannula on the back of his left hand, and shortly after his comfort increased tenfold. And he'd thought he felt good before.

'Good morning, Major!' Carson walked in now, sporting an impressive black eye and a swollen bottom lip. 'And how's my favourite patient this morning?'

'Do you have any other patients?' Sheppard asked, quirking an eyebrow.

'Not officially,' Janet answered for him. 'But that doesn't stop him mother-henning around just about everyone here.'

'But you, Major, saved my life, which puts you right at the top of my list of patients to pamper,' the Scot grinned. 'As soon as you're allowed a proper meal, I'm going to find you the biggest, juiciest piece of sirloin in the mess hall!'

'And there I was thinking you'd saved me,' Sheppard frowned, a little confused and wondering if his recall of events was off.

'Well, maybe I helped a little,' the Scot conceded, 'but all I know is that woman had the most murderous look in her eyes I've ever seen when she was hitting me with her gun. I doubt I would have got out of there alive if it weren't for you, lad.'

'As you can tell, he's very grateful,' Janet smirked. 'But much as Carson here might be happy to see you awake, there is one other person here who might just be even happier than he is. Do you feel up to a visitor?'

Sheppard looked from one to the other of them, seeing their smiles spreading, then realised what they meant. 'Nancy?'

They both nodded, barely able to contain their joy. 'She's not really allowed out of bed, but if we bring her here in a wheelchair for just ten minutes, I'm prepared to turn a blind eye...just this once,' Janet told him with a wink.

Emotions welling up, Sheppard found himself struggling to hold back his tears. 'I didn't know if she'd survived,' he croaked, his voice cracking.

Both Janet and Carson looked a little overwhelmed too, Janet reaching out to give his arm a gentle squeeze. 'If it hadn't been for that cell-phone you left in the warehouse she wouldn't have. If it had taken us much longer to get to her...well, that's not important now...the only thing that matters is that she pulled through.'

He nodded, swallowing down the lump of raw emotion now choking him.

'I'll go get her, shall I?' Carson offered, darting out at Janet's nod of agreement.

Janet perched on the edge of Sheppard's bed, laying her hand on his forearm again. 'She's been very worried about you, John.'

He nodded, certain she was telling the truth. Nancy wasn't heartless; she was capable of feeling scared for him if she knew he was in danger. But that didn't necessarily fix their marriage. 'You didn't tell her how bad I got hurt, did you?'

Janet shook her head. 'No...I was too busy patching you back up to discuss it in any detail with her. Would you prefer me not to?'

'She doesn't need to know everything that happened...' he replied, his voice petering out as he realised this was just yet another secret between them. 'How much does she know about Sarayah?'

'Nothing much yet. We told her she can have a full explanation once she's well on the road to recovery. It's too early to burden her with all that right now.'

He nodded. Something else to hide from her.

Janet must have seen something in his expression that troubled her because she squeezed his arm again. 'You know...if you need to talk to anyone about this, there are any number of people willing to listen. Me, Carson, Sam, Daniel...even Dr McKay is keen to speak to you. Or I could even call in Dr Jeffries if you'd like.'

That list of names jarred his memory into gear. 'Colonel O'Neill...is he?'

'He's doing just fine...but how did you know he was hurt?' she asked, her brow puckering into a frown.

'Sarayah told me she'd screwed with his brain...in the literal sense. She did it because I tried to kill her.'

'Hey...don't you even think about blaming yourself for anything that woman did,' Janet told him firmly. 'You were doing what you had to to survive out there. Whatever Sarayah did, those actions were hers alone.'

He nodded, though he only half believed her. He knew if he'd been more...compliant...things would have been different.

The door to his room opened, and Carson wheeled in the woman Sheppard had believed he'd left for dead back in that Philadelphia warehouse. Nancy looked pale and drawn, and her hair was dishevelled, but to him she was just as beautiful as ever.

'John!' she gasped, covering her mouth to stifle her sobs as her tears came flooding out.

He choked up again, too, desperate to jump out of that bed and scoop her up in his arms, but he couldn't move to reach her.

Carson wheeled her up beside his bed and Sheppard stretched his left hand out toward her. She took hold of it and pressed it to her cheek, and he felt her hot tears against his skin. 'I thought that woman was going to kill you,' she sobbed, her words hitching as she spoke.

'Yeah...me too,' he whispered, grasping her fingers tight. 'I'm so sorry, Nancy.'

Her beautiful brown eyes lifted to his, filled with astonishment. 'Sorry? What for?'

'I couldn't stop her shooting y–' The last word wouldn't come out. He bit down on his lip and tried not to cry, but it was hard.

'Well, I think you two could use some time alone,' Janet said, steering a beaming Carson toward the door. 'Just ten minutes, though, then you both need to rest.'

As soon as they were out of the door, Nancy pushed up from her wheelchair and climbed onto the bed beside him.

'Are you sure you should be doing that?' he asked, seeing the pain etched onto her face as she manoeuvred herself into position and tucked herself in under his left arm, her body pressed in against his.

'No, but I'd like to see them try to stop me,' she whispered against his chest, wrapping her arm around him and holding on tight.

For a second or two the thought she might not be who she seemed flitted through his mind, but he told himself he was being ridiculous and tried to relax into it. Sarayah was trapped in that containment device, he had to stop looking over his shoulder all the time. It hurt to have Nancy lean against him, and probably would have hurt a lot more had it not been for the pain meds coursing through his system, but he didn't complain. They lay together in silence, Nancy's tears soaking into his scrubs, not that he minded. A few days ago, this was something he'd imagined he would never do again, and while he knew it wouldn't last, he decided he deserved to enjoy this moment of unity while he could.

After what they'd been through, he figured they both deserved it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Awwww...he's safe and back in Nancy's arms. See, I can be nice to him when I try really hard. :D**


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30 **

Having his movement severely restricted due to his pelvic injury left Sheppard practically climbing the walls of the SGC infirmary with boredom. Admittedly, the first week after he'd been picked up had been a total loss, most of his time spent sleeping because of the pain-killing drugs managing his discomfort, but after that, as they had been steadily reduced and he'd spent more time awake, the appeal of rest had quickly lost its shine and he longed to be back on his feet.

Physical therapy proved a welcome break from the tedium, as did Nancy's visits and those of Carson, McKay and the SG-1 team. Even O'Neill had been wheeled through to see him one time to congratulate him on taking Sarayah down, the colonel sporting two fading black eyes and a shaven head decorated with a sizable surgery scar. He'd got the impression O'Neill wished he could have done the deed himself, but Sheppard felt glad the man hadn't had to face her. Since he'd been the one to send her back in the first place, it only seemed right that he'd sorted the mess out himself.

After a few weeks, when Nancy was given the all clear health wise, she made ready to travel home, reluctantly agreeing to leave him behind to continue his recuperation a while longer. Before leaving, she'd was debriefed about the whole Sarayah situation, and Sheppardattended along with her, listening in muted amusement to the tale of a Taliban terrorist who had fixated on him after her rescue from an RPG explosion in Afghanistan and who had used hallucinogens that fooled people into thinking she was able to appear and disappear at will. Nancy's eyes shifted his way, laden with doubt, several times during the course of the meeting, but she didn't question it. Sheppard knew his wife was a bright woman and would have questions that would probably undermine the cover story in seconds, but she'd long ago learned that asking them was pointless and so she pretended to buy the whole story just to keep the peace.

Later, he watched her pack away the meagre belongings she'd had collected from their home to make her stay more comfortable, feeling a mixture of sadness and relief that she was going home without him. Over the past two weeks she'd shown more warmth toward him than she had for months, but the constant unspoken queries about what they'd experienced at Sarayah's hands...or rather hand...always hung thick in the air, hinting at the ever present problem that had been slowly choking the life from their marriage prior to these events. Secrets.

Once she was ready, he ventured to the surface to wave her off, still having to use a wheelchair to get up there with her, and worse still, having to be pushed because of his broken arm, too. Daniel did the deed, leaving Sheppard and Nancy alone a moment for the final send off. Nancy kissed his cheek, shed a few tears even, but he could tell she was glad to be getting away from the place, a feeling he could well understand. But he was glad for the separation; the burden of knowing one day he would once again cause his wife to suffer the way she had made even looking her in the eye too difficult sometimes.

As the car pulled away, Daniel sidled back over to him, hands plunged in pockets. 'Everything okay?'

'Yeah, Nancy's in the mood to fix up the house now she's feeling a little better. I guess the cleaner will be putting in a few hours extra to scrub away any last traces of Sarayah's intrusion.'

Daniel grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. 'Well, I can understand her need to get things back to normal. People feel like that after a break in, but this...this was so much worse.'

'Tell me about it.' If it was left to him, he figured he'd probably just take a flamethrower to the entire house and build another, but he supposed as long as Nancy got things how she liked them again that was what really mattered. He was away from home more often than he was there anyway and besides, the place hadn't really felt like home to him in a long time.

'Ready to go back inside?'

Sheppard checked his watch. 'Doesn't matter if I'm not. I have another physical therapy session scheduled in ten minutes so I'd better get back to the infirmary. Dr Fraiser doesn't like me to be late for them.'

'She's just looking out for you,' Daniel smiled, grasping the handles and turning his chair around to head back inside.

'I know...and I'm grateful, it's just –'

'You wish you could go home?'

That wasn't what he'd been thinking exactly, he realised. What he wanted was to be back on his feet and fully recovered because every minute of every hour he spent debilitated by his injuries was a living memento of what he'd endured. His nightmares were already reminder enough without his waking moments being haunted by the memory of Sarayah's cruelty, too.

'Yeah,' he lied, deciding that was far easier to admit to than his real feelings. 'I think I've taken up an infirmary bed for long enough now.'

'Oh, I don't think Janet minds,' Daniel said as he returned them both to the shadow of the North Portal entrance. 'She's just glad you took Sarayah down before she filled her infirmary with SGC personnel.'

Sheppard smiled, but didn't answer. He hadn't really taken Sarayah down, just immobilised her, and the truth was she was still lurking in a storage device in the labs several floors below ground level in Cheyenne Mountain. Not a moment passed when he didn't regret not cutting her throat or blowing her brains out in Laurel's house, because maybe, just maybe, despite all her power, it might just have killed her. Now he just wanted to get as far away from that box as he could. But until his body was fully mended he was trapped there just as she was.

oooOOOooo

A little over two weeks later there was at last talk of Sheppard going home. Janet breezed into the infirmary with a big smile and the news that his latest x-rays had shown both his arm and pelvis were mending well and that meant he could be signed over to the care of his local military hospital by the beginning of the following week.

And so began the process of debriefing, bringing Sheppard up to date on their findings, and alerting him to the cover story that would be fed to staff at the hospital taking over his care. The meetings were kept deliberately short because of the discomfort he experienced remaining in one position for long, and took place three times a day, breaking the monotony of his confinement at the base with something more mentally taxing, but also more disturbing. Carter and McKay had gone over his account of events in fine detail and pulled apart every minute change in Sarayah's activities while he'd been her prisoner to be sure they had the full picture of her abilities. Listening to their reports wasn't easy, but he listened in silence, hoping that understanding Sarayah would make her seem less of a monster and free him from his nightmares.

At the final scheduled meeting, Carson also added his view on things. He'd now had ample time to study Sarayah's deconstructed form with help from Carter and McKay, and had found high amounts of naquadah atoms in the detectable genetic materials contained in her tiny new home. He felt sure that if they devised a way of removing the alien metal, what would be left behind would be 100 percent Sarayah, give or take a molecule or two. Sheppard, of course, had learned not to trust promises like that, knowing there was always a margin of error Sarayah seemed able to manipulate to her advantage, and so suggested it might be best just to leave her as she was, where she was. Unfortunately, the science boffins didn't agree, stating the experimental 'gate was too important to be left unstudied...although at this point they couldn't be sure they could reassemble it in any effective way even if they separated it out from Sarayah's genetic makeup. Failure to do so would also leave Sarayah a pile of gloop, since it was the Stargate that held her template in its memory. When he thought of it in those terms his mood brightened a little. Sarayah soup. Even she couldn't hurt him in that condition.

Another thing that had Carson concerned was the effect that losing her power and connection to the 'gate might have on Sarayah's mind if they were successful in separating them. Worried that she might be unable to cope with being "normal" again, he suggested it might be kinder to leave her be if it was possible to extract the 'gate without reforming her. Sheppard had no problem with that idea at all, but McKay and Carter were insistent that every effort should be made to restore her since she possessed valuable information about Atlantis and the whereabouts of the experimental 'gate. The thought she might one day exit that box filled him with dread, but if she ever did she would be here in the SGC and human again. That had to make her easier to contain, and though his natural reaction was to ask them if they were insane, he could understand their desire to save her if possible.

After that, the meeting mostly went over old ground, and Sheppard tuned out several times, thinking about his return to his home and his wife. He knew it should be a happy time, but for him it was just another hurdle to get over. Although this incident had brought him closer to Nancy than he had been in over a year, the cease fire wouldn't last once he was back to active service. The same problems would arise that always arose, driving a wedge between them yet again. Sooner or later they were going to have to face the painful truth about their relationship, and he figured sooner was better than letting it drag on any longer than it had to.

'So, for now, Major Sheppard, you'll be released to the care of the physical therapy team at the Walter Reed Army Medical Centre to complete your recovery.'

Sheppard snapped back to the conversation around him at General Hammond's mention of his name. 'Yes, Sir.'

'Once you're able to return to active duty, you'll rejoin your unit in Afghanistan, but when this "Atlantis" is discovered, the president had asked that you be recalled to duty here at the SGC, from where you will join the expedition sent out to explore it.'

Sheppard looked around at the various faces gathered at the conference table, all waiting for his response. 'Sir?'

'Come on, Sheppard. Haven't you been keeping up?' McKay snorted. 'You have that special gene Carson gets so excited about. We need you there.'

'Well...I...'

'And we need you to return to the programme and fulfil the role you played leading up to Sarayah's trip through the experimental Stargate,' Carter explained, although not fully enough to answer the varied and panic-riddled questions now firing through his brain.

'Including that trip?'

She nodded. 'Including that trip.'

He'd known he had to do it, he'd seen as much in his visions, but the idea that he had to actually see things all the way through to Sarayah's trip back to Earth was more than he'd ever considered. For a moment he was rendered speechless, the memory of watching Nancy get shot in that Philadelphia warehouse making him doubt he could see this through after all.

Carson, however, was more vocally horrified by the news. 'Why would he do that...more importantly, why would you people ask him to do that?' he demanded.

'Now that's the $64,000 question,' O'Neill piped up, scratching at the stubbly re-growth of hair just beginning to mask the scar from his surgery. 'Why are we asking him to do that again?'

'Because if he doesn't, Sarayah won't make it back here and bring with her the evidence that the 'gate exists,' Carter told him patiently.

'And that's a bad thing?' O'Neill clarified.

'It is if the knock on effect is that someone else finds it,' Carter pointed out.

'Ah...sorry, Sheppard,' O'Neill winced. 'I tried.'

Sheppard felt the purpose that had kept him going in those final few hours in Afghanistan had been torn away from him. 'But she shoots my wife.'

'I'm sorry, son, but the president considers the existence of that 'gate a significant threat to Earth's security. It's therefore vital that the future plays out as closely to the original version as we can make it to ensure we're the ones to discover it again,' Hammond told him, stony faced. 'And that includes what has taken place here on Earth.'

This was insane. Every nightmarish image he'd seen while combined with Sarayah began to flash through his mind, plus the additional experiences of his own gained in their time together, leaving him dizzy. He clutched his forehead and took a few deep breaths to steady himself. Carson was up and around the table almost as quickly as Janet, filling a glass of water for him and telling him to take sips to help him calm down. He mentally cursed himself for what he considered an over-reaction, his body betraying him and making him appear weak once again.

'Major Sheppard, are you all right to continue?' Hammond asked, his watery blue eyes fixed on him as the doctors continued to fuss, Carson even going so far as to oust Daniel from his seat beside him so he could be close enough to lend a hand again if needed.

'I'm not leaving this meeting now!' he sputtered, hating the panicked edge to his tone. 'You guys have obviously been planning my future for me, the very least I can do is hear you out.'

Carter looked embarrassed, and even Rodney averted his gaze. 'We didn't want to trouble you with this before, John,' Carter explained, as if using his first name would somehow soften the blow. 'We wanted to make sure you were well on the road to recovery before discussing it.'

'Because that makes it so much easier to swallow,' O'Neill muttered. 'Seriously, are you people sure this is a good idea? I mean, that 'gate thing may have been lying undiscovered for thousands of years...if we don't find it, maybe it'll just stay that way for a few thousand years more.'

'I'm afraid the president has reviewed all the information and is adamant that this is the correct course of action to take,' Hammond told him. 'When the time comes, Major Sheppard will be reassigned to the Atlantis expedition.'

'And if I refuse to follow orders?' Sheppard asked, knowing he would have trouble dealing with the idea Sarayah would hurt Nancy when the time came to act.

Hammond looked uncomfortable with that question, but didn't get the chance to reply.

'I think we're all forgetting something,' McKay interrupted, looking maddeningly smug. 'If you don't agree to go, all this will end up happening again anyway, because if you don't go to Pegasus, she doesn't come back here, if she doesn't come back here, you don't know about her and whatever set of events sent you on your journey to Atlantis will just play out as they did the first time. What _will _happen if you go through with things now is you will face all those situations you've seen in your visions with prior knowledge. And knowledge is power.'

'Or ignorance is bliss,' O'Neill fired back at him, repeating the joke Sheppard and McKay had shared when Sarayah had first shown her true abilities. Those words seemed to hold so much more meaning now.

'So I have to go through the 'gate to this Atlantis and play out all the encounters I had with her as closely as I can to ensure things escalate to the same point in time for me to send her to Earth and practically kill both me and my wife?' Sheppard clarified, the thoughts of the world of pain and torment he was opening himself and Nancy up to still sickeningly fresh in his mind.

'But she survives...and so do you. Just keep that in mind,' McKay enthused.

'Easy for you to say. You aren't the one who just had your ass kicked to Afghanistan and back,' O'Neill growled.

'Or the one who had a hole poked in his brain,' Carson added. 'No offence, Colonel.'

'None taken,' O'Neill assured him. 'Although, to be honest, it hasn't made much of a difference.'

'So are we also saying that unless Major Sheppard goes through with his journey to Atlantis and employs this advantage afforded to him, these events will continue to play over with possibly no progress made regarding this 'gate?' Hammond asked.

Carter laid it out plain and simple so they could all understand the difference Sheppard's decision could make. 'Well, from what Major Sheppard has told us of his memories, when we travel to Guedeseo and find the experimental 'gate, we don't have enough devices with us to store everything on the machine's memory. Going with prior knowledge means we can collect all the available information from the experimental 'gate's database before deactivating it, which should make recreating and hopefully perfecting the project a lot simpler.'

Sheppard took in what they were saying, realising he really didn't have much of a choice. The discovery of this Stargate hinged on him seeing his destiny in the Pegasus galaxy through. But how could he do that? He wasn't sure he was strong enough, yet his visions of the future had told him he did it.

'If I could just speak,' Daniel interrupted now. He'd been silent through much of the discussions, but now apparently felt compelled to speak. 'As probably the only other person on this planet who can even come close to understanding what you're asking John to do, I have to say I think the president is wrong to make this an order. When Sarayah came here, we made it clear we were not in the habit of handing people over to blackmailers just to gain information, but isn't that exactly what we're doing here? If we order John to put himself at her mercy because she can lead us to Guedeseo, there seems little difference to me.'

McKay rolled his eyes, reaching down under the table into a metal case he'd brought in with him pulling the contents out. 'This whole discussion is academic, because as long as this thing is still blinking, Sheppard goes through with it.' He placed the containment device on the table just a foot away from Sheppard, one of the lights now furiously flashing.

Sheppard stared at it, his breath caught in his throat, not a single word able to find its way to his lips. All he could do was watched it, waiting for the damn thing to start rattling across the table toward him.

'Whoa! It doesn't normally flash like that,' Carter gasped, leaning over to check it.

Apparently seeing Sheppard's distress, Carson interceded. 'Rodney, would you get that bloody thing off the table!' he hissed. 'I think that's just about the last thing Major Sheppard needs to see right now, and quite frankly I'm none too keen on having it near me, either.'

Rodney snatched it back with a mumbled apology, he and Carter examining it out of sight of the others gathered there.

With the thing concealed from his view, Sheppard regained his composure enough to ask, 'Is she...it...conscious in there?'

Both Carter and McKay peered up from their work, looking at each other, then Carter gave McKay a shrug and left it to him to field the query. 'Well, you reported that your consciousness remained intact during your travels with Sarayah, so theoretically it's possible,' he mused. 'Which would explain why it hasn't done that before because we haven't brought the box anywhere near you since she was first captured. Oh, God! She's still trying to get to you.'

'McKay,' O'Neill growled, 'sometimes, those odd little thoughts that just pop into your mind, should not pop out of your mouth.'

'I'm sorry...it's just kinda freaky when you think of it like that.'

'Yes,' the colonel hissed, narrowing his eyes at the scientist. 'Which is probably why it would have been best not to remind Sheppard of that right now!'

'So she's trapped in that box and she knows it?' Sheppard reiterated, ignoring their squabble.

'Well, it certainly appears so judging by the way her energy interacted with the containment field when we placed her near you,' Carter nodded.

He stared at her digesting what she'd said, then simply replied, 'Good.'

O'Neill smirked, nodding. 'I couldn't have said it better myself.'

'Indeed,' Teal'c agreed, his only comment through the entire discussion.

'I think Major Sheppard has probably had just about as long as he can stand for this meeting now,' Fraiser announced, Carson hopping out of his seat and preparing to wheel him out of there. 'I'm taking him back to the infirmary. You should rest too, Colonel.'

O'Neill rolled his eyes, but didn't complain. Sheppard had learned Janet Fraiser wasn't the type to take no for an answer, and apparently the colonel know that only too well, too.

'Very well,' the general agreed. 'You don't have to make any kind of decisions about your future involvement in this program right now, Major Sheppard. After Dr Jackson's compelling argument, I feel I may be able to ask the president to rethink his stance on making your participation an order. I'll be calling him just as soon as we end this meeting.'

'You can hold off on that call, Sir,' Sheppard told him, to the clear amazement of pretty much everyone sitting there. 'If nothing I do makes any difference it'd be pretty damn stupid of me not to use the advantage we've been provided with.'

Hammond's face crumpled into a grateful smile. 'Thank you, Major. If it's all the same with you, I'll give you a call in one week's time to make sure you haven't changed your mind. Space and time to think things through might give you a different perspective on things.'

'Yes, Sir...and thanks.'

'Don't mention it, son. Dismissed.'

Carson immediately pulled his wheelchair back from the table, and steered him toward the door. They passed where McKay and Carter still held the containment device, the light beginning its frantic flashing once more.

_Enjoy your stay, _he thought, hoping Sarayah might somehow still be able to connect with his thoughts. He hoped every moment of her incarceration was pure torture, just as his every minute with her had been, and he hoped it lasted for many, many years to come. It was the least she deserved after everything she'd done through the years.

oooOOOooo

The next morning, Sheppard said his goodbyes to the team at the SGC, and set out on his journey home. Everyone had gathered to wish him well, and he knew he would miss these people who he had got to know much better than he'd imagined he would on first meeting them over a month ago, but oddly, considering the friction of their first meeting, he once again thought he would miss McKay the most. Though others seemed to focus on McKay's faults, Sheppard had been able to see past McKay's acerbic manner and find the vulnerable, insecure man hiding beneath it, the genius who was riddled with self-doubt. He'd warmed to him, and in a way he felt McKay had warmed to him too.

But now it was time to leave and face reality again.

Major Davis accompanied him right to his front door this time, the exact reverse of the journey they'd made on first meeting. When the car pulled up outside his picture perfect house, Davis leapt out and fetched the wheelchair round for him, helping him from the car and into it for the trip up the pathway to the door. He still wasn't allowed to walk much, although he was assured that if he continued to heal as well as he had, he might be able to get more active in a week or so.

At the few steps up to the door, Davis halted the wheelchair and hopped up them, rapping sharply on the door. A few seconds later, Nancy appeared in the doorway wiping her hands on a dish towel, her face split by a broad smile as her eyes fell on Sheppard where he sat.

'Mrs Sheppard, one husband, safely delivered,' Davis quipped, turning to face him.

'Well, let's get him inside,' she grinned, watching on and holding the front door wide open as Davis returned to help Sheppard up the three steps to his veranda and on inside the house. That short journey took it out of Sheppard far more than he'd expected it to, and he slumped into a chair in his living room just as soon as he reached it a fine sheen of sweat sitting on his forehead from the effort. This was going to be a difficult road back to fitness, he'd already got his head around that, but he couldn't help feeling frustrated that even the most minor tasks left him drained.

Major Davis went back outside to collect his bag, and then loitered on the doorstep a while, refusing Nancy's invitation to come in for a drink, and talking in hushed tones, no doubt giving her the latest run down on his physical needs. Try as he might, Sheppard couldn't quite hear what was being said.

When Nancy finally wished Davis a safe journey and returned to the living room, she was straight into fussing mode. 'Now you just put your feet up and I'll do everything,' she insisted, dragging over a foot stool and gently easing his feet up onto it. Even though she was careful, it still made him tense and wince.

'So,' she continued, 'I made you up a bedroom in the dining room since I figured stairs would be out for a while.'

'That's great,' he smiled, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. The elevation of his feet had altered the angle of his pelvis so it wasn't comfy anymore. It wasn't an easy manoeuvre, but he managed it, with considerable effort. 'The place looks...' he gazed around the room, the remote sitting on the right hand side of the coffee table, a book on the left near to where Nancy always sat, '...perfect.'

'Oh, believe me, it was far from perfect when I got back here. I actually hired a professional cleaning team and went and stayed with Mom for a couple of days while they went through the place from top to bottom. I just couldn't stand being here knowing that woman had been through our stuff. I even threw most of my clothes away. The team bagged up anything that looked like it had been tampered with and I gave it to charity. At least it was a good excuse for a new wardrobe.'

She grinned at her own joke, and he forced on a smile, his skin crawling at the thought that Sarayah had invaded their home and examined their things.

'They bagged up anything of yours she'd messed with too, so if you want to take a look –'

'Just burn it all,' he blurted out, not really thinking his answer through.

Nancy's eyes widened. 'Oookay!' Her brow puckered into a frown. 'John...are you sure you're feeling all right?'

Again, he pinned on a smile for her. 'I was just kidding. Send 'em to charity like you did with your things.'

'Okay,' she smiled, perching on the sofa beside him. 'So, what do you want to drink? Coffee...or something stronger?'

'Coffee's fine,' he told her, noticing a wonderful smell wafting his way from the kitchen. 'Something smells good.'

'I should hope it does. I made Cajun chicken with a freshly baked apple pie to follow,' she beamed. In fact, I should go check on them. Wouldn't want it all to spoil!'

She trotted away, and he listened to her humming as she worked in the kitchen. This was the happiest he'd seen her in...well, in as long as he could remember, a fact that made him regret even more that it was doomed not to last.

She came back a few minutes later with coffees and muffins on a tray, setting them down on the table and handing a cup to him first. It was made good and strong, just how he liked it, and tasted like liquid gold running down his throat. He savoured the taste, laying his head back against the cushioned upholstery. 'Now, that's great coffee!' he breathed, just glad she hadn't offered him tea. Sarayah made tea...he never wanted to see a cup of tea again.

She stroked his hair back from his forehead and he started at the contact, still jumpy with physical contact. 'Hey! Relax! You're home now...enjoy it,' she said softly, planting a gentle kiss on him.

He wanted to relax, he really did, but the place didn't feel right to him. If anything, it felt worse now than when he'd returned from Afghanistan around six weeks ago. 'I am enjoying it,' he lied, trying to placate her. 'I'm just tired, that's all.'

Nancy snuggled up beside him, wrapping her arm around his waist. 'It's so good to have you back home where I can keep you safe,' she murmured, smiling up at him.

So that was why she was so happy. He was incapacitated, stuck at home, and for the next few months at least there was absolutely no way he was going to get called away on any secret missions. This was how she liked things, but it wasn't going to be like this forever.

'Nancy...we need to talk.'

'No, you need to rest.'

'No, we _need_ to talk.'

She looked into his eyes now, her own glistening with tears. 'Not now, John...you just got home.'

He sighed. She really wasn't making this any easier, but it was a conversation he couldn't stand to have hanging over them a moment longer. 'You have to understand some things, Nancy,' he continued, pushing on past her plea. 'I love you, and I mean that with all my heart, but when I'm recovered, I'm going back to Afghanistan to rejoin my regiment.'

Her lip began to tremble as she listened, and she nodded. 'I figured you would.'

'After that, I have another posting...one that's gonna take me a long way from here and you won't see much of me at all.'

She sat up and looked at him, frowning. 'How far away are we talking?'

'Very far way.'

'Don't suppose you can tell me where?'

'Classified,' he stated, Nancy echoing the word as he spoke it.

She turned away from him, gazing out of their front window. 'How did I know you were going to say that?'

'Because that's what I always say...and that isn't gonna change. You deserve better.'

She snapped her attention back to him. 'What do you mean? Who could be better for me than you?'

'You need someone reliable...someone who's there for you... I wasn't there for you.'

She grasped his hand as if physically holding onto him could stop their marriage slipping away from her. 'What are you talking about? You saved my life!'

'Nancy, if it hadn't been for me your life wouldn't have been in danger,' he pointed out. 'And I can't promise she'll be the only crazy willing to take a shot at you to get to me. I'm not good for you...and I love you too much to put you through that again.'

He could see how upset she was, and the guilt he felt for doing that to her was unbearable, but this was something that had to be said. Before Sarayah had come into their lives their marriage had been on the verge of breaking up. Now he couldn't see any reason things should be different, not unless what Sarayah had said about Nancy staying with him out of some debt of gratitude was true.

'But I love you,' she sobbed, covering her mouth as she tried to stifle the tears.

'I know, but loving me isn't enough. I can't be here for you, and you deserve someone who can be...someone like Greg maybe...'

She looked puzzled, and he figured he'd got the name wrong. 'You know, lives across the street, shares recipes with you.'

'Grant,' she corrected, her pretty face flushing with colour. 'It's not like that with him...he's just a friend.'

Though he felt relieved that her answer meant nothing had happened between the two of them as yet, Sheppard was certain they had stronger feelings or each other than mere friendship. 'Oh, I think we both know Grant would be happy with more than that.'

'I don't see him that way,' she insisted.

'Well, he seems solid...dependable...I doubt he'll be getting phone calls in the middle of the night to call him away on dangerous missions.'

She snickered at the mere thought of it. 'Oh, I don't know. Law can be a risky business.'

Sheppard arched an eyebrow. 'He's an attorney?'

She nodded.

'Oh.' He gave her a pained wince. 'Well...someone has to be.'

'Anyway,' Nancy said, looking him square on with a new determination in her eyes. 'I don't wanna talk about him anymore. I'm Nancy Sheppard, and I intend to stay that way. I'll prove to you I can cope with the secrets and the furtive phone calls. You see if I don't. And you, sir, will not be able to think about leaving once you've sampled my apple pie.'

She wrapped her arm around him and snuggled up again, and Sheppard decided to go with it for now. He'd said what needed to be said, and knew in his heart this was too good to last, but he'd enjoy it while he could because all too soon, Nancy would be Nancy Sheppard no more – yet another thing about his future he couldn't change.

oooOOOooo

19th October 2004 – Atlantis, Pegasus Galaxy

'Well, MALP telemetry doesn't show anything of any great interest,' Rodney reported, watching the feedback from their explorative device. 'There appear to be several ramshackle huts to the left of the 'gate...in pretty bad repair from what we can see, and I'm not picking up any significant energy readings...oh, wait...there's something. It's weak and intermittent, but it might be worth investigating.'

Sheppard looked over the scientist's shoulder, staring at the images streaming to them from the planet's surface. While Rodney lost himself in the excitement of finding something with an interesting energy signature, Sheppard's eyes remained fixed on the distant huts, the sight of them horribly familiar to him. So this was it. This was the moment he'd been dreading.

Apparently noticing his distraction, Elizabeth spoke to him. 'John...something on your mind?'

McKay looked up at the sound of that question. 'What's up? You look like you've seen a –' He stopped, looked back at the screen then over at Sheppard again. 'Is this it?'

Though he knew it would be easy to lie and tell him no, Sheppard couldn't bring himself to do it, not knowing how important this future timeline was. 'Yeah...it's Medulsa.'

Elizabeth's jaw dropped a shade. She too now looked back at the screen, then back toward him. 'Oh...I see.'

His mouth suddenly bereft of moisture, Sheppard licked his dry lips and planted his hands on his hips. 'Well, I guess we know this planet's a viable destination.'

A smile began to break out on McKay's face. 'Oh, yeah. I think we can safely agree on that.'

Elizabeth looked back and forth between the two of them. 'Okay, let's take this to my office, shall we?'

She walked away without waiting for a reply, clearly expecting them to follow her. McKay bounced across the corridor like a kid who'd just got what he'd always wanted for Christmas, while Sheppard took it at a more leisurely pace...mainly because he was so distracted he was having trouble remembering how to put one foot in front of the other.

Once in the office, he sat down and tried to adopt a nonchalant slouch, though he suspected he looked more like he'd forgotten how to use a chair, too. He was breaking out in a cold sweat just at the thought of talking about this mission. How the hell was he ever going to see it through?

'If it's all right with you two gentlemen, I'd like to bring Carson in on this meeting. Since he also has prior knowledge of what we're dealing with, it might be worth having his insight.'

'Sure, why not?' McKay snorted. 'The more the merrier. We should issue an open invitation to everyone in the city. Maybe extend it to the Athosians on the mainland while we're at it.'

'Can it, Rodney,' Sheppard snapped, a little lacking in his usual level of tolerance for the man's impoliteness.

Elizabeth looked mildly surprised by his rebuke, but continued with her intentions, tapping her earpiece and calling Carson to her office.

The Scot arrived a few minutes later, popping his head around the door with a look of concern. 'Something wrong, Elizabeth?'

'Carson, come on in and close the door please.'

Carson did as he was asked, taking up the spare seat beside Sheppard. From the corner of his eye, Sheppard could see the doctor looking at him. 'Are you all right, Major? You're looking a wee bit peaky there.'

'Understandable considering the MALP telemetry just transmitted back to us shows we've discovered Medulsa,' Elizabeth explained to him.

Carson slumped back in his chair. 'Dear lord!' he dropped his hands down on the arms of his chair, looking at the two men there with him. 'I suppose this is a good thing...in terms of the expedition?'

'Good? Are you kidding?' McKay gushed, turning purple with excitement and looking like his head might just explode with joy. 'This is so much better than good. That experimental Stargate is like the Holy Grail of all Stargates! And finding Medulsa means that Sarayah's trip back through it hasn't impacted too seriously in the original timeline. Events are playing out pretty much as they're supposed to, and even though we haven't found a way of separating that freak from the Stargate to get the information out of her, we still found Atlantis and now Medulsa, too. We're on our way to locating the experimental 'gate.'

He sat there, grinning inanely, his focus darting from one to the other of them as if he expected them to offer up a standing ovation for his rousing little speech.

For that moment, Sheppard couldn't think of a single thing to say in response, so he was grateful when Carson filled the void. 'Easy to say when you aren't the one who spent several days being indiscriminately tortured by one of the women now living there –'

'Well, of course I empathise with Sheppard –'

Carson held up a finger to show he hadn't finished, '—and who also knows that travelling there will set into motion a chain of events that will result in his own wife being shot.'

'Well, there's that, too,' McKay conceded, 'but we've discussed all this before, Carson. Sheppard understands he can't change those events, because the moment he decides to pull out of this, events reset to how they originally played out anyway. Only this way can we gain any kind of ground, both in terms of the Stargate, and with how we handle that woman.'

Sheppard felt suddenly a little more alert. 'I thought you said everything has to play out just as it did the first time.'

'It does,' McKay nodded.

He narrowed his eyes. 'So how does what I know help me to handle her?' he demanded.

McKay shrugged. 'Well, if you can shape events so she only kicks your ass twice instead of three times for instance, but the end result is the same, that shouldn't have too much impact on the timeline. You might experience a few ripples perhaps, but as long as the outcome is unchanged, we're good.'

'Ripples?'

'Yeah, you know, someone might be wearing a different outfit, or might say pretty much what you expect but without saying it word for word, that kind of thing.'

'So, as long as we fix that faulty Wraith defence device and free the men of Medulsa from slavery, it doesn't matter how we get there?' Sheppard clarified.

'Well, as long as it also involves you meeting Sarayah and setting off that freakish obsession of hers, it should be okay,' McKay conceded.

'Obsession?' Elizabeth queried, eyes wide. 'I wasn't told about any obsession. That doesn't sound healthy.'

'You know Sheppard and women...they can't help themselves,' Rodney replied dismissively.

Had Sheppard been listening he might have been embarrassed, but a thought had popped into his head now, the memory of a vision he'd had while in Sarayah's clutches...the one that had foretold of his death because of an animal attack when they reactivated the experimental 'gate. 'So I could alter things a little so long as she ends up going into that Stargate?'

'And back out the other end to Earth exactly where you sent her the first time, yes, I already said that. Why, what do you know that you want to avoid?' McKay's face suddenly slackened. 'Oh, God! You saw me die, didn't you? If you did I take back what I just said because this project needs me around if we're to have any hope of recreating and controlling that Stargate.'

Sheppard blinked back at him. He was used to the size of Rodney's ego by now, but every now and again its sheer blatancy could surprise even him. 'No, Rodney. I didn't foresee your death.'

'Well, in that case it's a judgement call. If you want her to whip you with the left hand rather than the right because she doesn't hit so hard, that kind of change should be okay.'

He blinked at him again. 'Okay for who?'

'The safety of the universe may depend on us finding that 'gate. Does that make it okay enough for you?' McKay snapped.

Feathers now nicely ruffled, Sheppard lost his imposed cool. 'I'm not sure you get to be that snappy with me, McKay, not since I'm the one who's gonna deliver your wet dream right into your lap in around two years time.'

That silenced him nicely...in fact, it silenced everyone.

Elizabeth cleared her throat, and brought their meeting to order. 'Okay, it's like this,' she began, leaning forward on her desk and giving them all a hard stare. 'I was briefed on the whole Sarayah situation by General O'Neill before we left Earth, but I have the feeling I was given the abridged version. What exactly happens with this Sarayah woman that has everyone so riled?'

McKay was about to speak when Sheppard cut him down. 'I think I'm the person most qualified to answer that question, don't you, Rodney?'

As if sensing this might be a difficult conversation Elizabeth took the situation in hand. 'Carson...Rodney...Maybe you two could give John and I a moment to catch up on the basics before we go into the details of how to proceed.'

Carson immediately agreed, though McKay was less enthralled with the idea a discussion about his beloved experimental Stargate might take place without his involvement. Carson slapped a hand on the back of his neck, practically steering the man from the room until they were invited to rejoin the discussion.

Sheppard slid his gaze from the door to Elizabeth. Her large hazel eyes were fixed on his, her face a mask of professional calm. 'Okay, John. Help me out here. I was told before coming to Pegasus that it was imperative the mission to Medulsa took place and you were in on it. But when I hear Carson use the words "indiscriminately tortured", and Rodney talk about "freaky obsessions" I get a little antsy.'

'Actually, on the whole she's pretty discriminating when it comes to torture. She has a preference for certain methods.'

'Like whipping?' she asked, her brow puckering with horror.

'Yeah...like that.'

She regarded him seriously, not a flicker of a smile despite his attempts at levity. 'I was told this mission was vital, but quite frankly I find it impossible to even contemplate telling you to go ahead with this.'

He shrugged, trying to maintain his casualness. 'It's part of my job. I knew what I was getting into when I came out here...'

Elizabeth stared at him again, clearly troubled by the whole prospect. 'When I agreed to see this part of our expedition through, I had no real idea what was being expected of you. John...I won't force you to do this, but if you insist on going ahead –'

'If I don't, time resets and I go there anyway. Like McKay says, at least this way I might be able to steer things a little more in my favour.'

She stared a while again, then slowly nodded. 'All right, John. Just so long as you're not doing this out of some desire to fulfil orders. You can back out at any time.'

He huffed out a laugh. 'Have you ever known me to stick to an order if I thought it was wrong?'

She smiled at last, finally leaning back in her seat. 'No, I don't suppose I have.'

'So, should we bring the others back in and plan how best to handle this?'

'I guess so,' she nodded. 'Forewarned is forearmed, after all.'

Having settled Elizabeth's mind, Sheppard suppressed his own fears as best he could for the remainder of the meeting. This was something he had to do no matter what his feelings on the subject. But the thought of meeting Sarayah again was something that chilled him no matter how much he knew was hanging on their reunion.

oooOOOooo

Two hours later, Sheppard walked the last stretch of corridor to the jumper bay, Rodney still prattling away excitedly beside him.

'So, when we get there, all I have to do is crack some joke about you getting to schmooze with the women while I do all the work and then we go our separate ways, right?' the scientist clarified.

Sheppard nodded, trying to keep the quake from his voice. 'Yep. You head off with Ford to check out the energy reading, and me and Teyla go down to the village and do our thing.'

'Your thing being pissing them off?'

'Pretty much,' Sheppard conceded.

They arrived at their designated jumper to find Teyla and Ford already waiting for them, the Athosian immediately picking up on Sheppard's mood.

'Are you all right, Major Sheppard?' she asked, her face a picture of concern. 'You seem...nervous.'

'I'm good,' he assured her, offering no further explanation. 'Let's get moving.'

Though she still didn't look happy with his response, Teyla asked no further questions and followed him on board, taking up the seat behind his in the forward compartment. Sheppard set the craft in motion, then let the jumper do the work as it lowered itself into the gate room and aligned itself with the Stargate to ensure their safe departure.

From the control room, he heard Elizabeth's voice come through their comms system. 'Take care on this one, Major. Just do what you can to keep yourself safe.'

Sheppard peered over at Ford in the co-pilot seat, catching sight of his puzzled expression. 'We'll do our best, Elizabeth,' he replied, fielding the instruction as if it had been intended for all of them.

oooOOOooo

Twenty minutes after that they were ensconced among some undergrowth on a high ridge, looking down over a pre-industrial village.

'Well, there it is, Sheppard. Might as well get down there and get this ball rolling.'

Sheppard looked down at the primitive village, with its mixture of womenfolk and children, a heavy feeling sitting in his gut. 'Yeah...I guess,' he replied, experiencing the strongest sense of déjà vu he'd had in his life. This was just like his vision, even down to the exact words Rodney used.

Again, McKay seemed almost surprised by his lack of enthusiasm. 'C'mon, Sheppard. This little reunion is gonna lead us to the single greatest Stargate ever created.'

Sheppard rolled his eyes as McKay raved over the technological advances the experimental 'gate promised and spoke his line just as he remembered it. 'Easy for you to say. You're not the one whose gonna get the crap beaten outta you.'

Teyla exchanged the expected puzzled look with Ford then frowned at John. 'I do not understand. You two have been here before?'

'Er, no, not exactly,' Rodney stammered. 'Not if we're looking at time in terms of the linear model. But if you consider time as billions of billions of moments all existing simultaneously and we simply travel through them, then we are both never here and always here in any given moment.'

Teyla's jaw dropped a fraction, but she didn't speak, just as she'd remained silent the first time Sheppard had experienced this moment.

'What did he say?' Ford asked, taking off his cap and scratching his scalp.

'He said no...in a roundabout way,' Sheppard sighed, taking another look through his binoculars. No sign of Sarayah, but that was no surprise. This wasn't her domain. She was queen of the prison encampment after all.

'We haven't been here, but we've "seen" what happens...well, Sheppard's seen it anyway,' McKay tried to clarify, making his meaning no clearer if Teyla and Ford's expression were anything to go by.

'Does he come with a translation manual?' Ford asked, thumbing over at the scientist.

'It's complicated,' Sheppard conceded. 'You two just have to do as we say...no questions. Okay?'

'Very well. What should we do, Major?' Teyla asked.

'Uh, just gimme a minute, okay?'

'What're you waiting for, an invitation?' Rodney quipped. 'You have to get down there or that Stargate sits and waits for someone else to come along and find it.'

'I know what's at stake, McKay!' Sheppard hissed, throwing him a murderous look. 'I just need to wrap my head around what I'm about to do.'

McKay huffed out a laugh. 'What's to get your head around? You need to go play nice with the crazy women, and eventually Sarayah will lead you to the experimental Stargate.'

'Sarayah...who is this Sarayah?' Teyla asked.

Ford suddenly twigged what was going on at the mention of that name. 'Sarayah? Isn't she the –'

'Yes...yes...' McKay interrupted, 'but right here, right now, she's Madam Whiplash and she's just waiting for Major Mishap here to walk into her life...if he ever plucks up the courage.'

Though he'd expected the comment this time, it still angered him that his friend could be so thoughtless. 'It isn't that easy, McKay! When I meet her, I'm gonna set into motion a series of events that will cost a lot of lives. This isn't some schoolgirl crush – a whole civilization is gonna get wiped out by the Wraith because of her obsession. That's not something to take lightly.'

McKay rolled his eyes. 'Yes, I'm aware of all that, but if you don't go down there and do your thing, that Stargate remains undiscovered and the future changes. Do I have to remind you how bad things might turn out if the Wraith find it and use it against us all?'

'No...'

'They would have access to any planet they wanted, including Earth.'

Sheppard looked at Teyla and Ford. 'Did everyone else hear me say "No"?'

'Look, I know almost losing Nancy scared you, but that's the operative word "almost". If you don't do this, the men and baby boys of this planet will continue to suffer and die at her hands for years to come. Surely you can't let that go on? Something inside you wouldn't let it happen the first time, and you're still the same guy with the same principles this time, right?'

There he went with the emotional blackmail again

'So, what's it to be?' McKay asked, his eagerness shoving his empathy to one side just as it always did.

Sheppard looked out across the village, took a deep breath, and went for it. 'Teyla and I will go down to the village and open up communications. McKay, you and Ford should try to track down those energy spikes and check out whatever's causing them. We'll rendezvous at the jumper in one hour to radio back to Atlantis with our findings.'

'Finally! Thank you,' McKay grunted, marching away. He stopped suddenly, Ford running into the back of him, just as he had last time. 'Oh, you want me to do that joke about you always getting to talk to the hot women?'

'Not really.'

'Okay, I'll just...I'll go then,' he stammered setting off once more.

Ford watched him go, shaking his head. 'Wouldn't it be better for us all to stick together, Sir?'

'You said that last time Ford, and no, it wouldn't. Just go make sure McKay doesn't inadvertently blow up the planet.'

'I heard that!' McKay called back, apparently still sore about that little reference.

'You were meant to!'

Once they were alone, Teyla looked at Sheppard with her trademark concern.

'Ready to head out?' he asked her.

'I do not understand what is happening here, Major. Who is this Sarayah, and why must you meet with her if she is so dangerous?'

He took one last look at the village, his heart sinking. 'It's a long story...a very long story – which I will tell you, but not right now,' he explained. 'All you need to know today is that when I ask you to leave, you have to leave, no matter what's happening to me.'

'Now you are really beginning to worry me –'

'Just promise me you'll do as I ask, Teyla. Please.' He reached over and rested his hand on hers where it sat gripping her P-90. She looked down at it, and then met his gaze.

'Very well, Major. I will do as you ask...I trust you know what you are doing.'

Sheppard and Teyla picked their way down to the village from the higher ground, walking quietly into the settlement, much to the obvious amazement of the people living there. Sheppard's spine prickled at the familiarity of his surroundings, surroundings he had never actually set foot in before yet recognised as well as he did his own room in Atlantis. Only women wandered out to face them, just as they had in his vision, some clutching children close to them as if they expected the strangers to try to steal them away. Others, he noticed, looked awe-struck and whispered to one another, not a response he recalled at all.

'I guess the men must be out huntin' and fishin',' Sheppard whispered to his companion though he knew it wasn't true, giving the ladies now gathering around them one of his winning smiles.

'Where are the men?' Teyla said, her voice low so only he would hear. 'I see none anywhere, not even the elderly. And do you not think it strange that most of these children also appear to be female?'

He didn't find it odd at all, knowing what he knew about Medulsa, but he didn't say that, just maintained his wary silence. He was waiting for the one known as Allanae to make her appearance, and as yet she was conspicuous in her absence. Around them, the women of the village were now beginning to approach, encircling them.

Evidently feeling the need to put them at ease, Teyla spoke up. 'Do not be afraid. I am Teyla Emmagan, and this is Major John Sheppard. We come in friendship, and in the hope of opening trade links between our peoples.'

The whispering around them grew a little louder, and Sheppard thought he heard someone say something about lies. None of this was ringing true to his vision. What the hell was going on? He wanted to suggest to Teyla that they beat a tactical retreat, but that would throw the timeline a loop he doubted it could rectify. Crap! Where was McKay when he needed him? Unlike in his memories, he didn't order Teyla to lay down her weapons yet.

Despite the silence her words met with, Teyla pressed on regardless. 'Major Sheppard's people are new to this galaxy, and have travelled from very far away. They are in need of good friends, and I am certain we could offer you something of value that you cannot get from other traders. We have power sources and technologies, and –'

'We have no need of such things,' a voice called from the back of the crowd as they pushed in close, crowding them in.

This was not going according to any plan they'd discussed on Atlantis. Not prepared to put Teyla in any further danger, Sheppard lifted his P-90 turning a full 360 turn as he spoke. 'All right, people. Let's back it up. I don't wanna hurt anyone, but if you don't give us some more room I'll be forced to shoot.'

A stunned silence fell on the women. But of course it had; he was a man and he'd dared to speak to them. Maybe that had brought things back on track. But where was Allanae? To really rattle these women he was supposed to speak to their elder.

'Ask if we can speak to their leader,' he whispered to Teyla, who nodded that she had heard him and made the request.

'We do not wish to alarm you, but our request for trade is in earnest. Perhaps we could talk to your leader? I am sure there will be something we could offer in return for a share of your annual crops.'

Again, Sheppard thought he caught the word 'Lies' in the whispers rumbled through the crowd again, but eventually a breach formed in the encircling women and only one person stood in their way.

Alishia.

She eyed Sheppard with suspicion, before gesturing that they should follow her. Although Sheppard felt a little comforted by the sight of the one person on Medulsa who had struck him as reasonable in his visions, he didn't like this. Everything was off somehow, but maybe these were just some of those "ripples" McKay had mentioned, minor changes caused by over thinking things because of Sarayah's trip back in time. Maybe the additional time spent planning this mission meant they'd arrived a little later than normal and Allanae was just taking a nap. He figured that was wishful thinking, but he lived in hope. The direction she took them in was definitely Allanae's house from what he recalled, so hopefully this meeting would trigger the events they needed to happen.

At the door, Alishia turned to address them. 'You two wait here'

Sheppard could feel the women of the village pressing in behind them again, cutting of their chances of retreat, anticipation building. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his gut instinct told him to leave now...but he couldn't, he had to see this through.

'Major...Should we contact the others?' Teyla asked. 'It would seem prudent to let them know about the reception we have received.'

'Go ahead,' he nodded, but before she could do so Alishia returned.

'You can enter now.'

'Hold that thought,' he told Teyla, taking point and stepping in through the doorway first.

The house was dark inside, to be expected in a village with no electricity, he supposed. Alishia led them toward a room at the rear of the building, one with only one small window casting scant light there. Their guide stopped at the doorway, barring the opening with a muscular arm. 'This is far enough,' she told them. 'Now put your case to our leader.'

Though he couldn't see into the room, Sheppard immediately sensed something was wrong. 'You know...I think we've troubled you people enough for one day, we should probably just g –'

Alishia slapped her meaty hand on the back of his neck. 'Stay and state your terms of trade,' she told Teyla, her grip firm enough to tell him he wasn't going anywhere unless she let him.

Teyla looked to Sheppard for instruction, and he nodded to tell her to go ahead. She began her sales spiel once more.

'I am Teyla Emmagan, and this is Major John Sheppard. We come in friendship, and in the hope of opening trade links between our peop –.'

A thumping buzz of light shot out from the depths of that dark room and hit Teyla square in the chest, knocking her to the floor where she jerked and shook until finally falling unconscious.

'Teyla!' Sheppard squatted beside her, testing for a pulse that he thankfully found. It seemed she was just stunned. Badly stunned.

Movement within the room caught his attention, and he tried to look at least slightly surprised when Sarayah emerged from the gloom, but he wasn't...not really. This setup had her fingerprints all over it. They'd walked into a trap.

Alishia lifted her chin proudly and pointed at him. 'See, Sarayah, I told you. They have come, just as you said they would.'

Sarayah stood over him, a gun in one hand, some kind of handmade leash in the other. A leash, like he was some kind of...pet. A cold chill ran the full length of his spine. The Sarayah back on Earth had said she would bring him here and make him this Sarayah's pet. How did she know that was her plan? Was it just a coincidence?

He straightened up to his full height to face her, determined not to stay on his knees a moment longer. This woman had kept him oppressed in Afghanistan for days, he wouldn't begin his time in Medulsa the same way.

She watched him stand, regarding him without emotion or comment, no flicker of reaction to his presence there. Perhaps he'd jumped to conclusions about the leash. If she was in charge here she probably treated every new prisoner this way. So here she was in her full glory, the woman who had stalked his nightmares for the past year, complete with two hands, both of which she apparently meant to make good use of judging by their contents. Well, this time she was just human, if he could handle "Super Sarayah" he could handle this backwoods version no problem.

He tilted his chin up. 'So you're the leader, huh?' he asked, finding his voice at last and wondering how many people she'd had to kill to reach those lofty heights.

For a moment Sarayah gave no response, then a smile split her face almost from ear to ear as she gazed at him, lifting her weapon to point it straight at him. 'Welcome to Medulsa, pretty one. We've been expecting you.'

Those words shook him to the core. Rodney's theory about being able to manipulate events in his favour had been wrong. This Sarayah clearly knew who he was, too. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who had connected with his future self during Sarayah's time on Earth. There was no coincidence here; that leash was meant for him.

Then bang went his timeline advantage in a flash of blue light and a numbing thump of power.

The End...ish...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know...I know! Don't hit me...I couldn't help it! Sarayah made me do it! She still wants to win! **

**So, if you've enjoyed the story enough to read right up to the end let me know what you think. It makes all the effort that goes into these stories worthwhile!**

**A special thanks to my betas Sterenyk Strey and lizlou57 for keeping me on track with my typos, Britishisms and continuity were both a great help with all this. I've added a lot since they first saw it, so blame me if you found mistakes!**

**And...as a peace offering to those of you who really wanted to see Sarayah go, I'll give those of you leaving a review the choice of what story I work on next. Whichever one get the most votes wins!**

**1)The follow up to this tale where we see how Sarayah has changed things on Medulsa to try to prevent her future following the same path to Guedeseo. Sheppard has to battle against odds she's seriously stacked against him to keep the timeline intact.**

**2) A sequel to The Three Gates, where Sheppard and co get caught up in the complicated and sometimes violent repercussions of a population being forced to reinvent itself to survive.**

**3) A completely new idea. An AU picking up on what happened when the Wraith sent out the signal at the end of Vegas. Earth never finds its long lost Stargate and no one has any idea there is even life on other planets...until the Wraith come calling. Our favourite SGA people, plus a few of the SG-1 crew – some of them leading quite different lives – find themselves irresistibly drawn together to make a stand to save the planet.**

**I'll post the result on my profile in a week's time! :D**

**P.S. JoeyLuv - If your account was fixed it's now broken again! I still can't reply directly to you so thanks again for your reviews for those past couple of chapters. I'm glad you enjoyed them. :)**


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